The Marked Child of Light
by Marj123
Summary: The connection between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort is stronger than people know. Such Bonds can be very dangerous to break. Severus Snape helps, and Neville helps, and Tracey and Heather and Ginny and even Trevor.
1. Chapter 1

_Summary_: Sometimes it is as difficult to survive a victory as it is to survive a defeat.

_Notes for readers_:

This story begins in fifth year, and is as per canon up until conclusion of Triwizard Tournament.

_Minor exceptions:_

1. Harry has fallen further behind his age-mates in size.

2. The words of the original prophecy are widely known. Harry has known since the end of first year. There are other, similar prophecies.

3. Severus Snape is not quite as scathing toward his students as in the original books.

_**Note that this is essentially the same story as 'The Broken Bond' except that it has a quite different ending. Significant differences start from the beginning of chapter 18.**_

_Disclaimer__: _

_J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world, a fanfiction author, whose pen-name is Beren, created the characteristics of the species, Hecatema, though I am responsible for the idea of the 'Hecatema Chase.' Other concepts from the world of fanfiction have also been used, such as the idea that the Potters were an old family, and some of the characteristics of Veela. The Bijn Yusdu are my invention. _

_**C**__**hapter 1:**_

Severus Snape returned to the front desk after inspecting the progress of the potions that the fifth years were working on. Only two weeks until OWLS, and the general standard was a touch higher than usual, he thought. The students were working in pairs, Granger and Weasley doing well as usual, Malfoy and Nott doing well also, and Potter and Longbottom already finished, with an apparently perfect potion. Longbottom and Potter worked well together. Longbottom had lost a lot of his quite unnecessary nervousness, and Potter needed the taller boy to reach for the supplies when they were out of his reach.

The hope of the wizarding world, Snape thought wryly. The so-called _Chosen One._ The one that Prophecy said had the power to defeat the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. He was the size of a twelve-year-old rather than a fifteen-year-old, and far too thin. He wore glasses, and was prone to illness. He didn't look like he had the ability to defeat a pussy cat.

Class finished and Snape said, "Samples on my desk, please. Also homework."

Longbottom was one of the first in line, Potter the last. The boy said casually, "I didn't do the homework, Professor Snape."

Snape was surprised, but automatically resorted to the sneer that he used as a weapon to intimidate students. "What, no _time, _Potter? Quidditch too important or something?"

Harry shrugged, "Just didn't do it."

"And why not? You weren't sick again were you?"

Harry grinned ruefully, and said with a trace of irony, "Not for three months now, Sir. I'm quite proud of myself." There was a mutter of laughter from those students not too terrified of their formidable teacher.

"So any other excuses?"

"No, Sir. I just didn't do the assigned homework."

Snape had orders not to be severe with Harry Potter, but he could not ignore this. He said curtly, "Detention, eight this evening, my office."

"Yes, Sir."

Half past eight, and Harry was working quietly at the lines he was assigned. Snape finished marking the pile of homework, and sat back in his chair. Harry looked up and put down his pen. "I'd like to talk to you please, Sir. I need something."

Snape gave his automatic frown, "You need something?"

Harry nodded. "You want me to defeat Voldemort. Everyone wants me to defeat Voldemort. I am winning at the moment. Every week or so, we have a battle, and he's losing, probably because the connection between us is stronger one way than the other. Professor Dumbledore says I have to go to my relatives for the summer holidays, as I usually do. He refuses to believe that they don't treat me reasonably. The problem is that if I'm weakened now by too little food or by physical abuse, I will be unable to beat Voldemort. It's a war of attrition now."

Snape asked slowly, "What do you mean, _battles_?"

"Battles in our minds. At the beginning of the year, he was hurting me, but I've learned to stop that now, mostly, and then I started learning how to attack. He didn't realise at first that I was influencing his thoughts. It's why he killed Malfoy as the traitor instead of you."

Snape stared at the boy, who returned his gaze, unflinching. Snape snapped, "You're mad. I don't believe you."

Harry gave his evidence. "I was watching the last meeting of Death Eaters. You were there. He spoke of trying to get to one of the professors and put them under the Imperius Curse, in order to kill me. Abernathy asked why he didn't use you, and he said that he needed you in the Order, and trusted."

"How much have you told the headmaster?"

"A little. I say I have dreams, sometimes. But Dumbledore's judgement is severely lacking. Maybe he was wise once, I don't know. He _looks_ wise, yet I've been lucky to survive his decisions regarding my life, and I will not trust him any further."

Snape regarded the boy, who waited, it seemed, patiently. Snape had idolised the headmaster in the past, but the previous year, he'd insisted that Potter compete in the Triwizard Tournament, in spite of his attempts to refuse. The boy had only conceded after he'd spent a few days in hospital with a blinding headache, apparent proof that it was a 'magically binding contract,' as the headmaster insisted. Except that Dumbledore had requested, and Snape had provided a potion that would have that exact effect. And the result of Potter competing? The boy nearly died, another student did die, and Lord Voldemort had returned to full strength.

He asked, "So what do you want?"

"What I need for summer is someone who will give me what I need, and yet someone who does not care for me. I may succeed, but when he dies, I could also die because of the connection between us. And of course, I might fail. Dumbledore would interfere, and someone like Mrs. Weasley would be impossible. I'm not asking for much, and I won't interfere with you."

"Why do you think I could keep you safe from him?"

"You've been a double agent for many years. If you don't have a safe refuge, I've overestimated your intelligence."

Snape nodded slowly, "I have a safe refuge. I would have thought someone else far more suitable, even so."

"I can't think of anyone. And I expect by the end of summer, it'll be over, one way or the other."

"We'd best talk it over with the headmaster."

"We'd best _not_ talk it over with the headmaster. He would not agree. He seems still to expect me to muster some hidden reserve of power which I simply do not have. Voldemort has power, experience, and he knows spells I will never know. This is the only way I might be able to defeat him, because of the connection he forged when he did the original Death Curse, and then enhanced when he used my blood to help him become stronger."

Snape studied the boy, noticing how his eyes burned with determination. For the first time, he thought that the boy who looked so small and almost fragile, might have the ability to succeed. He nodded abruptly, "I will provide a home over summer, as safe as possible. I will ensure that you have sufficient to eat, and I will not physically abuse you. Is that satisfactory?"

"Very satisfactory, thank you, Professor Snape. Please do not tell Dumbledore."

"I will not tell Dumbledore."

"If I leave on the train as usual, and then you pick me up from my relatives' house that evening. Is that OK?"

Snape said with a twist of his lips, "You really interfered in Voldemort's mind?"

Harry laughed suddenly, "Two days ago, I made him take to Nagini with a knife. The poor snake fled, and now he doesn't have a single friend in the world." His mood changed, and he said quietly, "I'm sorry for him sometimes. He has disciples, who worship him, and yet he can't trust any of them."

"You say he still trusts me?"

Harry nodded, "I'll give you warning if possible, when that changes. For now, you're fairly safe, I think."

"You're not. Did you know there's a price on your head?"

"I know. He thinks he could easily die if I get killed, but he's afraid of what I'm doing to him. He's decided to take the risk."

Snape nodded and said abruptly, "You may go. Take care."

Quietly, Harry started picking up his things. He turned at the door, and said, "Thank you, Professor Snape." Snape nodded curtly.

An hour later, Snape still sat in the chair, thinking about the unexpected discussion. It was hard to believe that Potter could not only know what the Dark Lord was doing and thinking, but that he'd actually influenced his thoughts. That he'd been behind Voldemort's decision to kill Lucius Malfoy, when Malfoy had been a loyal and intelligent lieutenant. Maybe Harry was behind the Dark Lord's increasing paranoia and decreasing rationality. The boy had convinced him. Potter might look like a child, but his eyes were adult, a bit tired, almost haunted. Severus Snape found he believed every claim the boy had made. Would Dumbledore? Probably not.

Snape suddenly smiled. For the first time in many years, he thought he might outlive Voldemort. Would Harry? The connection was closer than he'd realised, almost like a Soul Bond. The boy was right. One could easily die if the other died. He needed someone who would support him, but without any sentimentality that would only weaken him. He would do his best for the boy, and he would not tell Dumbledore. He hadn't quite admitted it to himself before, but while Albus Dumbledore had always been manipulative, now he was foolish.

Harry prudently chose a roundabout route back to Gryffindor Tower. It was not only that he feared murder attempts, but that even a quite minor injury at this stage might give Voldemort the advantage. He reminded himself again that he could only do his best. He was not responsible for saving the world just because of some stupid Prophecy. On the other hand, he could not be free until Voldemort was out of his head and out of his life. There was no doubt in his mind that the evil man deserved to die. He'd felt the pain of his curses, had seen his victims. He _would _kill Voldemort. Nothing else was important in his life.

Hermione and Ron were studying together, and looked up in surprise. Ron said, "He didn't keep you long!"

"No, I was lucky."

Hermione asked, "Why didn't you do the homework? Serving detentions only wastes study time."

Harry shrugged, and unloaded the box he held, three hot drinks and several cupcakes. He'd stopped by the kitchen. Ron sat up fast and reached for a cake. Harry grinned, "Leave a few for me. I've got some growing to do."

Ron looked him up and down, and said, "I'll say. You look like an ickle Firsty!"

Hermione said, "Thank you, Harry. It was very thoughtful." She eyed him severely, "Not that I'm going to let you out of studying."

Harry shook his head. "Not tonight, Hermione. I'm having an early night."

"It's OWLs soon! You have to study!"

Harry smiled at her with some fondness. Hermione would never understand that exams could be of very minor importance.

He always felt a little claustrophobic with the bed curtains drawn, but he always did it now, and then cast a Silencing Shield on them. Voldemort had taken to attacking him when he thought him most vulnerable, in the early hours of the morning. It was impossible not to scream when he felt that first lancing pain in his head. But then battle was joined, and mostly now he was able to make Voldemort hurt. He only seemed to manage real damage though, when he was the one to attack. But not tonight. In the morning maybe.

_***x***_

Hermione asked Ron, "How's Harry this morning?"

"He says he's taking the day off."

Hermione bit her lip. She knew what that meant - he was going to take the fight to Voldemort. By evening, he'd look like death.

Ron said, "He apologised for walking back alone last night. He said he just forgot. And Fred and George are staying with him today. They say they can do private study, and anyway they don't care about NEWTs."

Few of the Gryffindors knew exactly what Harry was doing, or why he was so often absent from class, but every one of them supported him. He was a hero to them. He'd won the Triwizard Tournament, had faced Voldemort then, and again when he'd attacked the school at the beginning of September. The Ministry of Magic had initially tried to deny that Voldemort was returned, but that had come to an abrupt end with the battle at Hogwarts. Whether adults in the wider world were still inclined to believe that Harry Potter was nothing but a neurotic boy, Hogwarts students had seen him at the forefront of the fighting. He was the best duellist in the school, but a teenager was still no match for Death Eaters, and certainly not for the Dark Lord.

After breakfast, Fred and George brought their books to the table in the common room, while Harry turned a chair to face the wall. His face was impassive. George asked, "What do you want us to do?"

Harry glanced at them, "Don't do anything. Just make sure no-one interrupts. If I'm not finished by lunch-time, make a Silencing Spell around me."

Fred suddenly pulled him close, and gave him a hug. "Good luck."

Harry offered, "It scarcely hurts when I go for him. It's not like when he takes me by surprise."

"It'd be better if there was a private room."

"It's safer here than in a disused classroom, and there's no room for a comfortable chair in the dorm."

The older boys started to work, pretending not to pay attention to Harry, who was pacing restlessly, reluctant to start. He visited the bathroom, had a drink of water, and finally sighed and took his seat, turning further away from the twins.

Harry closed his eyes. He liked to start quietly, learning what he could before his enemy became aware of his intrusion.

On a hidden estate in the North of England, Voldemort rubbed his eyes, and reached for a pot of coffee. His hands trembled slightly and he felt weak and headachy. It was taking him longer each time to recover from an attack. The blasted Potter boy. He'd have him soon. He had a few strings to his bow. If the Liddicombe brothers couldn't manage the job, he'd pick him up from King's Cross at the end of the year. It was a convenient tradition that every student travelled on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning and end of each year, even when there were quicker means of travel. The Blood Magic was strong, but all it would take was to kill the aunt and cousin, and there would be no blood ties to protect him. He'd put Abernathy onto that. Abernathy was about the brightest of the Death Eaters who remained to him. There was also the hope that the boy could be lured to Hogsmeade. He'd have him in no time if he was rash enough to leave the school grounds. One way or another, Potter would be dead soon.

Harry gently, carefully withdrew from the mind of his enemy. His relatives were neglectful, and in earlier years, had been frankly abusive, but he didn't want them killed. The Hogwarts Express itself was supposedly protected, but the journey from the station to his relatives' home was potentially risky. Restlessly, he prepared himself a cup of coffee, ignoring the twins. Now that Voldemort knew that he was sometimes overlooking his mind, would he be able to change his mind without him knowing? Really, it was amazing that the Dursleys had not been attacked long before, whether or not Dumbledore had woven additional protection spells around them.

Harry sat again, closed his eyes, forgetting about his untouched coffee, and made the attempt. Just the thought of the Dursleys to bring it to the forefront of the mind of his enemy, and then trying to carefully instil the conviction that it was useless trying to overcome the Blood Magic. That attacking the Dursleys would inevitably mean the death of Voldemort.

Fred and George looked up as Harry made a sudden outcry and grabbed his head in pain. Harry grimaced and started to fight back. Instead of a subtle invasion of Voldemort's awareness, now he imagined his mind as a slashing, cutting weapon.

George put a restraining hand on Fred's shoulder. They hadn't seen it before, but Ron and Neville had described it. That Harry would look as if in distress, that he might shed tears sometimes, even scream in agony. But that they should simply wait until it was over. On no account should they interrupt his concentration. They could see his determination now, his lips compressed, his eyes squeezed shut. He was pale and getting more so. And he was sweating.

It went on and on, and after a bit, they returned to their books, though finding it impossible to concentrate, even with Harry's back to them.

Voldemort sank into unconsciousness, but Harry didn't stop. He had to do as much damage as he could. And this time when he tried to instil the idea that he must not attack the Dursleys, he simply forced it through. He wanted to do the trip on the Hogwarts Express. It could be the last time.

A few students filtered in, needing to exchange books before afternoon classes. Harry opened his eyes, and started to make his way towards the stairs that led to the dormitory, but stumbling. The twins got quickly to their feet, and took an arm each. Harry muttered something that could have been a thank you, but then fainted. Fred lifted him and remarked to his twin, "Good thing he's small."

Neville came in and regarded the white face cradled to the chest of the seventh year, "It was bad?"

"I wish I could know whether he won or was ignominiously defeated."

Harry stirred, and Neville said, "Get a drink of water for him please, George. Also a wet face-cloth. We'll put him to bed."

Harry opened his eyes when he was settled in bed, and Neville reached out, and brushed the sweaty hair away from his forehead. "All right?"

Harry answered weakly, "Better than he is."

George handed Neville the face-cloth, and he bathed the white face. Harry closed his eyes, not resisting the care. Neville said, "Me and Hermione this afternoon."

Hermione arrived and raised her eyebrows at Neville. Neville said, "He says Voldemort's worse."

"By the look of him, we'll need a pair to stay with him tomorrow morning as well."

Harry didn't answer, only shifted in the bed, his eyes still closed. Hermione touched his hair, and said, "You can sleep now, Harry. Have something to eat when you wake." Harry murmured something indistinguishable, and a moment later, his breathing became deep and even.

There was a staff meeting after lessons. A few routine matters, and then Dumbledore told them that he had received confirmation that there was a very large reward offered for Harry Potter's death. "I've told the prefects that he is never to wander alone. So please don't penalise students if they are escorting him."

Professor Trimble asked, "Who is organising this escort?"

Dumbledore projected his air of benign wisdom, "Leave it to his friends to look after him. They are loyal, and it will make the situation seem less threatening for the poor child."

McGonnagal said doubtfully, "The Ministry has offered a team of Aurors to ensure his safety."

"I declined. It's better that he trust his school to protect him."

"He must be terrified!"

Trimble put in, "He missed Defence today."

McGonnagal nodded, "He missed all his classes."

Dumbledore said gently, "He is just a boy. It's understandable if things are too much for him sometimes. Once he's grown into his power, then I think we'll see a different Harry Potter. For now, give him sympathy and understanding. No punishments."

"He'll never pass his exams if he's not studying."

"I will remind him to do his best, even if he is finding it difficult."

McGonnagal said, "Knowing you're on his side, Headmaster. Nothing will help him more."

Dumbledore's complacency grew. The poor orphaned boy idolised him, as of course, he should. One day, Harry Potter would defeat Voldemort, and it would be because of him, Albus Dumbledore, and the way he'd fostered his growth. Carefully graded challenges, so that he understood the vital importance of working at his defence skills, and filtered information, not giving him too much at a time, so that he regarded the headmaster as the fount of wisdom. But it was leaving him with the Dursleys that had been the master stroke. Harry would never outgrow the conviction that his Muggle relations had instilled in him, that he was worthless, a freak. That he owed something to the world because deep down, he was worthless.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 2:**_

Snape had his fifth year students review theory the following morning. Harry was there, looking as if the slightest breeze would blow him away. He even staggered once, Snape noticed, but Longbottom was close and steadied him. Snape hadn't previously noticed the protective attitude his fellow students had developed toward the boy. Harry was attentive, but quiet, and took no part in the quick verbal quiz. Granger of course, answered most questions, with Malfoy a close second. Snape gave out a written test then, and noted that Harry appeared to be having no trouble. He hadn't been such a good student the first few years, often disobedient, insolent, and with a tendency to run headlong into danger. Would OWLs matter to him? There were to be external examiners, so there would be no opportunity for teachers to give a pass on known ability. He would have to perform well in the actual examinations if he wanted a pass.

A message came, and he said, "Mr. Potter, you are excused. The headmaster wants to see you."

Harry asked, "Might someone be excused to come with me, Sir?"

Draco Malfoy asked, drawling, "Frightened to be alone, Potter?"

Harry glanced at Draco, and said, "I have reason to be cautious."

Snape said briskly, "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, please accompany Mr. Potter to the Headmaster's office, and wait there with him. Do not leave him alone."

Draco rose with an obvious sigh of reluctance. Harry said soothingly, "Dumbledore always has sweets on offer. Might improve your disposition a little."

Snape said sharply, "_Professor_ Dumbledore, Potter."

"Yes, Sir."

Hermione and Draco leaned against the wall outside the headmaster's office for ten minutes, until Harry emerged. Draco said, "You were right, Harry. I should have asked for sweets. I might have been able to wait more patiently."

"Sorry, Draco."

"Did he have anything useful to say?"

Harry gave a wry grin, "He patted me on the head, told me I was a good boy and not to worry because I was quite safe under his care." He fumbled in his pocket and handed over a couple of lolly bars, "And he gave me these."

Draco sneered, "A Malfoy doesn't eat Muggle sweets."

Harry shrugged, "Your loss. We'd best head for Defence."

Draco asked seriously, "How much risk are you at really, Harry?"

"Quite considerable risk, I believe. I have information that there are students within the school quite prepared to attack. Luckily the Death Curse is not easy."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't know."

Hermione said, "It's an Unforgivable Curse. They think you should face him, kill him, and yet no-one says that using the Death Curse carries an automatic sentence to Azkaban."

"Probably why no-one is willing to try. Personally I think the whole wizarding world is made up of cowards. He's only a man, after all."

To Harry, it seemed a very long way from the Headmaster's office to the Defence classroom. They had an excellent teacher this year in Professor Trimble, much better than the Umbridge woman who'd been there for a few weeks in September. Trimble was rumoured to have been an Auror.

Draco asked in an indifferent voice, "Are you going to make it, Potter?"

Harry paused, "Just give me a minute."

Draco observed dispassionately, "You've gone white. Are you sick?"

Harry didn't answer, and Hermione tucked her arm under Harry's. "Not far now."

Draco took Harry's bag and he mumbled a thanks and started to walk again.

The outgoing class was passing them, among them the Hufflepuff student, Roddy Liddicombe. Liddicombe noticed Harry, seeing how ill he looked. He didn't have to kill. All he needed to do was to put Potter in hospital for a few days. Harry spun around and faced him, standing tense, legs slightly bent and wand in hand. Liddicombe stepped backwards and said, "Watch it, Potter. You're paranoid."

Harry said nothing, but he didn't turn his back on Liddicombe.

But Thursday, he looked far better, and on Friday, he looked as well as he ever looked these days.

On Monday, Severus Snape looked for Harry in his Potions class, but he was absent again. He asked, in a soft, sneering voice, "Potter not honouring us with his presence today, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron answered, "Blake Brooks hit him in the back with a spell last night. It was only a Bajet Stun, but he hasn't recovered."

Snape frowned, "Does he have anyone watching over him?"

"Professor Dumbledore says that he's quite safe."

Snape rapped, "Quiet study. Just eight days until your Potions exam. I'm sure no-one will be so stupid as to waste this time." He stalked off, heading for the hospital wing.

He found Harry very pale and with his eyes closed. Poppy Pomfrey watched him with a worried face. She glanced at Snape, and said, "Repeated attacks of head pain. He's failing, Severus."

"What does Albus say?"

"He said very little."

Snape glanced around, "What protection does he have against an attack here?"

Harry opened his eyes, looking at Snape.

Madam Pomfrey said, "We're to have Aurors to watch over him."

Harry said, very quietly, "All I have to do now is last until summer holidays. In the summer, I _will_ beat him."

Snape stared at the burning eyes, and nodded, "In the summer, you can beat him."

"I'll push him back now, then next Sunday, before the exams, so he'll be quiet for a bit. Then again the day before we finish school for the year. Peace for the trip home."

Snape nodded, "And a quiet refuge for the summer holidays."

Harry smiled, but then screamed, writhing in his bed. His resistance was low and Voldemort was attacking.

Snape waited, just watching. It took ten minutes, and the face of agony changed to a look of desperate determination. It still took a half hour, and Harry took a deep breath and relaxed. Snape nodded, "I do believe you will win, Mr. Potter."

Harry opened his eyes, but he didn't look as if he knew what was happening.

Snape said clearly, "I'll stay until you have Aurors guarding you." Harry closed his eyes again.

Voldemort wiped his brow. So tired, but this was his best chance. He _must not_ give the boy time to recover.

Abernathy asked, "Any orders?"

"Try and get to Potter. Anything to weaken him. Even another stun spell. Anything!"

"If he can be killed?"

Voldemort said hysterically, "Then kill him, you fool! He has to die! If he doesn't, you could lose your lord!"

Abernathy said smoothly, "Yes, Lord. You can relax now, if you like. I will kill him for you."

Voldemort gave a deep sigh of relief. Abernathy would organise it. He could sleep.

Abernathy smiled to himself. Like all the Death Eaters, he'd taken a Blood Vow. He could not bring down Voldemort himself, but it looked like Potter could. The orders he passed on to three senior students at Hogwarts were that Potter was to be untouched, with the reminder that whatever hurt Potter, hurt the Dark Lord. There was truth in the statement, but matters were now at a point where only the death of Potter might save Voldemort.

Voldemort waited for Abernathy to fulfil his promise. He was relieved that the loyal leader of his servants would take care of the problem. He was the only one besides Pettigrew who knew that Voldemort was getting sick, and why.

Abernathy waited to see if a teenager could defeat the wizard. Maybe it was the teenager who was worthy of being followed. Harry was left unmolested. By Wednesday, he was back at lessons.

Potions again Wednesday afternoon, and Snape asked at the end of the lesson, "Potter, remain a moment, if you please."

"Yes, Professor Snape."

To the professor's surprise, the four other Gryffindor boys also remained. He nodded at them, "Wait at the door, please. Potter, to me."

Once out of hearing of the others, Snape said, "These exams are important, Harry. I am curious whether you think you will pass or not."

Harry blinked in surprise. When had he become Harry rather than Potter? He replied, "I expect to manage a pass in a few subjects. Enough to qualify for sixth year."

"You haven't been studying?"

"It is not a priority in my life."

"You're making some sacrifices."

"If I have the chance, I'll make up for it in sixth year."

"You'll study then?"

Harry laughed, "I daresay. Also I'll try for the Quidditch team, I'll grow at least six inches, and I'll try for two or three or four girlfriends."

Snape smiled, "Be careful then, Harry."

Harry's smile vanished, "I nearly lost. Just because of a minor hex in the back."

"It was a Bajet Stun. Not a spell normally taught."

"No."

Snape said quietly, "I will pick you up from your relatives at eight in the evening. Tell me if you have any special requirements."

"I have no special requirements."

Snape watched him leave, his friends surrounding him. What would he need? Peace and quiet, he guessed, for his battles. Good meals. Teenage boys were always hungry, he'd heard. The house-elves would take care of that. Did he need clothing? He'd noticed that he almost always wore uniform, even when his friends were in casual clothing. Amusements? Well, he had an excellent library.

For the first time in a long time, Snape remembered how he'd loathed the boy at first sight. Loathed him for his resemblance to his bullying and arrogant father. He finally admitted to himself that Harry had never been arrogant. He'd go home at the weekend and see what he could organise for his visitor. No-one else would know that he was there. Would it really be over this summer?

On Saturday, the final Quidditch match was held. Snape found it difficult to take his eyes off Harry, who was in the second bottom row of the stands. As usual, he was surrounded by friends ready to protect him. There were also two Aurors, doing their best to ignore the match, and keep a watch for potential attackers. Harry himself appeared as if he'd forgotten that he was not just another teenager as he jumped to his feet, barracking for his team. Gryffindor against Ravenclaw.

Draco joined Snape and said quietly, "He used to love playing Quidditch. The youngest Seeker in a century, and he hasn't been able to fly since the Triwizard Tournament."

Snape grunted.

Draco asked, "Will he be able to do it, do you think?"

"How should I know, Mr. Malfoy?"

"My father was killed by the Dark Lord."

"Then I suggest you do not follow in his footsteps."

"I don't intend to."

It was a long game, the score standing 240 to 220, and Snape turned to leave. He was beginning to lose patience. Silly rules really, that the game didn't end until one of the Seekers caught the snitch. This time, neither Seeker seemed to be fast enough to manage the feat.

There was a sudden outcry, and he turned back, his eyes automatically seeking Harry. Neville Longbottom's arm was around him, and as Snape watched, two of his classmates started helping him down from the stands, people scattering in front of the group to get out of their way.

He waited, and then joined them as they made their way towards the castle, Harry stumbling in spite of the supporting arm. Hermione Granger walked close as well, looking anxious.

Dumbledore appeared, going straight to Harry, and asked urgently, "What's happening, Harry?"

The answer was a mumble, "Punishing somebody."

"Cruciatus?"

Harry gave a strangled gasp, and squeezed his eyes shut, determined not to scream.

Snape said calmly, "I will carry him. One of you go ahead and prepare what he needs."

Neville said possessively, "I will carry him."

Snape ignored him, taking Harry gently in his arms and lifting him to his chest. Dumbledore said, exasperated, "It's his own fault. I tried to teach him Occlumency, but he couldn't seem to get the idea."

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Let me know when he recovers."

"Yes, Headmaster."

The two Aurors had followed, and now glanced at each other. This pathetic child, and he was supposed to bring down the most powerful wizard in generations?

By the time he arrived at Gryffindor Tower, Harry was insisting that it was over, that he could walk. Snape put him down, and he walked. They were close to the Gryffindor rooms when Harry stopped and reached for the wall.

Neville asked, "Harry?"

Harry said fervently, "_Shit,_ I hate this."

A jolt seemed to go through his body, and he sagged to his knees, before shaking his head, and pulling himself to his feet again, more pale and sweaty than ever.

Snape asked, "Do you want me to carry you, Potter?"

Hermione said firmly, "Yes, please, Professor. He's not going to make it otherwise."

Since Harry didn't object, Snape scooped him up again, remarking, "You're a featherweight, Potter."

A half grin crossed Harry's face, but he was grateful not to have to walk, and shortly, he'd have to make his attack. Feeling Voldemort torture and kill always took its toll, but he knew what Voldemort knew, that Abernathy had been deliberately disobedient.

Snape lay Harry down on his bed, and Hermione sat down beside him. Snape said evenly, "I'll wait in the common room for a bit. Let me know if he needs anything."

Ten minutes later, Harry opened his eyes, and said, "Hermione, I need the chair I always use. I can't concentrate lying down. But here, between the beds. A silencing spell. I'm going to do it today instead of tomorrow, and in front of his Death Eaters."

Without comment, Hermione used her wand to push beds back for extra space, and Neville went to get the chair.

Snape paced downstairs until he felt the burning of the Dark Mark, the sign that he was required to report to the Dark Lord without delay. He glanced at the stairway that led to the dormitory, hesitating. Was it safe for him to go? When Voldemort was in a mood to punish, few were safe.

Harry glanced up when he entered the dormitory again, and said, "He's killed Abernathy, and he's calling every Death Eater to issue new orders."

Snape breathed easier. He dreaded the day when it was just him. Surely one day Voldemort would realise.

Voldemort seemed as awesome as ever when Snape knelt at his feet and then took his place in the circle of Death Eaters. Red-eyed, slit nostrils like that of a snake, long-fingered, white hands, tall. He reeked of power. It was what had lured Severus Snape to him in the beginning, that feeling of an awe-inspiring power. Certainly there was none of that feeling about Harry Potter.

Bellatrix Lestrange arrived, knelt and kissed the hem of her master's robe. She looked up with shining eyes of adoration. Both her brother and husband had also served Voldemort, but she'd seemed indifferent when he'd killed them. Except for a glance to verify his identity, the body of Abernathy was ignored.

At last, when the thirteen remaining Death Eaters were gathered, Voldemort said, casually indicating, "Snape, vanish the rubbish."

Snape did as ordered, and Abernathy was gone. Several of the wizards around shivered at this callous disposal of a fellow. Death was one thing, but even enemies were normally laid to rest with dignity, not vanished like insignificant pieces of rubbish.

Voldemort stood tall, his eyes seeking any sign of less than perfect obedience and respect. Cringing Peter Pettigrew still served as his personal servant, and there were two women who were never trusted to do anything else but cook and clean. Voldemort started pacing and talking slowly, "Justin Abernathy was disobedient. He suffered the price of his disobedience." He looked around at his Death Eaters, each of them sworn to obey, each of them unable to attack. The Dark Lord was a menacing figure.

He continued, satisfied at the looks of obsequious respect. "There is ..."

Then, without the slightest warning, he fell to the ground, screaming and thrashing around, just as Snape had seen Harry Potter do on more than one occasion. There was confusion, no-one willing to take the lead. Being second-in-command among the Death Eaters was risky. Lucius Malfoy had been a leader, and now Voldemort had disposed of his successor.

Bellatrix raced to her master's side, wanting to help, then Pettigrew, afraid not to. The others stepped back, daunted. They didn't dare act without authorization, didn't dare not act.

After a half hour, Voldemort seemed scarcely conscious, still in pain, his eyes glazed.

Bellatrix rose to her feet and said, "He confided to me what his orders were. That Potter is to be killed as soon as possible."

Avery said derisively, "Who are you to give orders, Bellatrix? You were not even here when I arrived."

Bellatrix shrieked, "Of course I was here. I know my lord's mind. He wants the boy dead!"

Alexander Nott looked her up and down with a sneer, "You think you're more important than you are."

Avery said, "He likes to watch you torture people, Bellatrix. It's why he keeps you around. Don't try and suggest strategy."

Bellatrix gave a cry of hysterical rage, killed Avery and turned her wand on Nott. Nott stepped back, ashen faced.

Voldemort made an effort to intervene, but Harry concentrated furiously until Voldemort again writhed on the floor, very clearly in agony.

Bellatrix was distracted and was promptly killed by Nott. She was a maniac, dangerous to them all. But then he looked back at his afflicted lord, and made the decision not to return. Not just that he'd killed his toy, but this Voldemort was not the powerful Dark Lord he'd served when he was young. Voldemort's Inner Circle was reduced by another three.

Snape took a step back, trying to be inconspicuous. There was continuing argument as Goyle removed the two bodies. For a time it looked as if there could be more fatalities. Only Pettigrew stayed beside his master, kneeling on the floor, not brave enough to touch the helpless figure. He was the only one who'd seen him like this before.

The Death Eaters were cruel and ruthless men, and would only follow a master more powerful than they were. Voldemort sobbing pitifully on the floor was not a figure of strength. Robert Ryan whispered to his brother, "He's dying, I think." Francis nodded, and they quickly strode toward the door. No-one lifted a hand to stop them. Like Alexander Nott, they did not plan on any return.

Snape said quietly, "I have to get back. Our Lord does not want me to compromise my position. Pettigrew, look after your master."

He knelt briefly by Voldemort, and bowed his head, "Master, when you are better, call me. I live for your command."

Voldemort was unable to reply. Snape left him.

He found Dumbledore stepping down the stairs from Harry's dormitory, and asked, "How is he?"

Dumbledore gave his benign smile, "I ordered the poor boy to bed. It takes a lot out of him when he feels Voldemort in his head."

"I guess it does."

He wanted to see for himself, but Dumbledore put a hand to his arm, and said gently, "I care for him very much, you know. There is no need for anyone else's attendance."

Upstairs, Hermione said, "Dumbledore's gone, Harry."

Harry thanked her, returned to his chair, and closed his eyes again. Lucky the old man didn't interfere until Voldemort had been left alone with Pettigrew. He was still on the floor, but beginning to recover.

Harry invaded his mind, feeling, wanting to inflict utmost damage.

Pettigrew carefully lifted his master, using magic, and lay him on the bed. Voldemort asked hoarsely, "Is Bellatrix dead?"

Pettigrew cringed, "I'm afraid so, Master."

Voldemort closed his eyes, bereft. No-one else adored him as Bellatrix did, half-mad as she was. She was a loss. He opened his mouth to issue firm orders that Potter was to be killed as soon as possible, but his voice turned to a scream, as Harry slashed as hard as he could at his consciousness.

Harry worked hard that day, only desisting when he was quite unable to continue. By that time, Voldemort had been unconscious for hours.

Snape could not afford to show too much concern with Harry's wellbeing, with the consequence that he didn't see him again until Monday morning, filing in with the other fifth years for the History exam. He looked as he mostly did, tired, pale-faced, and far too thin. Dumbledore had sent the Aurors away, maintaining that he was perfectly capable of looking after each one of his students. He reminded them that there were ancient and powerful protections on Hogwarts. No-one pointed out that the protections had been overcome several times in the last few years.

Hermione asked Harry afterwards, "How did you do?"

"Pretty fair, I think."

Ron said, "The reading you made us do instead of listening to stupid Binns' lectures was a good idea. I learned more this year than I ever have in History."

"So you think you both passed?"

The boys glanced at each other, and nodded.

Hermione said, "Potions tomorrow. Are you going to study, Harry?"

"No, I'm still too tired."

"How's Voldemort?"

Harry closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and grinned, "No signs of returning consciousness. I did well."

Ron gave him a gentle thump on his arm, "Boasting again!"

"I want a peaceful week."

He had his peaceful week. Even when he regained consciousness, Voldemort's head ached too hard to try and make decisions. Harry was grateful. After all, he _might_ survive the summer, and then OWLs would be important to his future. Just one more week of fifth year, during which time he attacked Voldemort repeatedly. By Friday, he tottered with weakness. He was winning, but it was taking a tremendous toll.

Ron and Fred helped with his trunk, and George held Hedwig's cage. The Weasleys were to keep her for the summer, as Harry said his uncle loathed her. Once on the train, Harry curled up in his seat and slept. He'd intended to make a point of speaking to as many people as possible, the ones who helped him, the ones he might never see again. He was getting too weak, and Voldemort was a long way from dead.

In the carriage with him were five students, each of them ready and willing to defend him from attack - the Weasley twins, Ron, Neville and Hermione. Other Gryffindors were in neighbouring carriages.

Fred whispered to Hermione, "Is he going to be all right at his relatives?"

"He says it'll be safe and it'll be peaceful, exactly what he needs."

"People are always asking me what he's trying to do."

"Tell them only that he's trying to survive. No need to go into details."

"I catch myself checking to see whether he's still breathing. He looks awful."

Hermione nodded. Harry did look awful.

***x***


	3. Chapter 3

_Notes__: The 'Holocaust' referred to below, is not the World War 2 Holocaust, but the witch-burnings of the Middle Ages, which reduced the wizard population to a remnant. Inter-marrying with Muggles became common afterward, and wizard culture became permeated with Muggle culture, to the resentment of the few remaining Pure-blood families. * __Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 3**__:_

Snape checked his watch, and then regarded the house that Harry had grown up in. Quite small, obsessively neat, appearing identical to all the others in the street. It was hard to imagine any sort of wizard living here. He knocked and Harry opened the door.

Snape nodded, "Your trunk?"

"I'm afraid I can't lift it."

"No matter. I'll minimise it and you can put it in your pocket."

"I told my uncle I'm leaving. There's no need to see them."

Snape frowned, but then remembered the references to physical abuse and decided not to push it. Besides, _no-one _should know where Harry was. Instead, he simply put the quick spell on Harry's trunk, handed it to Harry, gave him some brief instructions, and then wrapped an arm around the boy and disapparated.

They reappeared outside a small house. Snape said, "This is my safe-house. I have my permanent home, but too many people know where that is. You should be safe anywhere inside the high walls. The property goes further, but I suggest you stay within the walls."

"Thank you, Professor Snape."

"We're out of school. You call me Severus."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "You want me to call you Severus?"

Snape felt it as a rebuff, and said briskly, "Call me whatever you're comfortable with."

"Yes, Severus."

They entered the house, and Snape showed him to a bedroom, pointed out an adjacent sitting room that he said was for Harry's use, and added, "Bathroom down the hall."

"Thank you, Severus."

"You look exhausted. Do you want to retire for the night?"

"I'd prefer something to eat, if that can be managed."

"Didn't you have dinner with your relatives?"

"Afraid not."

Snape raised his voice, "Vriah!"

A pop sounded, and a house-elf stood before them. Snape said, "This is Vriah. There are three house-elves, but Vriah requested that she be the one to serve the great Harry Potter." His voice had a distinct undertone of irony in it.

Harry said, "Thank you, Vriah. Could you please get me something to eat. Soup and toast, something simple like that will be fine."

Snape glanced at Harry's haggard face, and added, "High energy food. Something sweet as well."

"Yes, Master Severus. Yes, Master Harry Potter." There was another crack as she disappeared.

Harry remarked, "Hermione is offended by the notion of enslaved house-elves, but there's no denying they're great to have around."

Snape said indifferently, "They're happy to serve, just as long as they're not abused."

Harry took little notice of Snape as he ate hungrily, and enjoyed the large drink of sweetened hot chocolate. Snape watched him while appearing not to do so. He finally asked, "You're not planning on attacking him tonight."

"No."

"And will he attack you?"

"No."

The boy was taciturn, and Snape suddenly realised it was not because he was being rude, simply that he was exhausted. He rose, "Bed?"

Harry nodded and looked around, confused.

Snape said, "This way. Come on, I'll help you." Harry was clumsy, and Snape wound up bullying him into pyjamas, pushing him toward the bathroom, and even making sure he made it back to bed.

Finally, Harry curled up, and when Snape pulled the covers around his shoulders, mumbled, "Thanks, Neville."

Snape shook his head. Caring for Harry might be more hands-on than he'd expected. He could leave it to the house-elves, of course, who were surprisingly strong for their size, not to mention that they had powerful magic of their own, not dependent on a wand. But Harry was too important to trust to house-elves.

The Senior house-elf, Radshi, reported to Snape the following morning, "He's up. Just having a shower."

Snape consulted his watch. Nearly eleven. He said, "Prepare an early lunch, and as I said before, anything he wants, within reason, try and provide. Especially food. He's far too thin."

Harry appeared in the dining room twenty minutes later. Snape stared at him. He wore a tattered pair of trousers, cut off at the hem and cinched in at the waist, and a violently coloured jumper, also looking very worn, with a design of lions.

Harry looked at his expression, and laughed. He indicated the jumper, "Mrs. Weasley. She likes to think I'm another son, and she likes to knit."

Snape shook his head, and said, "I thought it best we have an early lunch since it's too late for breakfast."

"Sorry about that, Prof... Severus. I was very tired."

"That was obvious."

Snape watched the boy as he tucked into the food, eating as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Once Harry slowed down, he said, "Just a few things. As you asked, I will not interfere. What you are doing is of vital importance to us all. Call for Vriah if you want anything. Dirty laundry in your laundry basket in your room, and you'll oblige me by wearing the clothing I've provided. Those clothes are appalling."

"I won't be able to repay you until I'm seventeen."

"Repayment is not necessary. If you succeed, I will owe you a lot more than a few galleons."

Harry regarded him quizzically, and finally said, "You're probably right. Not that I'm doing it for you or anyone else. Thank you for the clothing."

Snape was encouraged. "Another thing. I am not a healer, yet I have some expertise in the field. You will pander to me by allowing me to weigh you, use a Nisco Monitor, and when I deem it necessary, take the potions I give you. You need guidance in taking care of your health. You must not over-tire yourself."

Harry sat back, frowning. Snape waited, hoping that he would not be stubborn about it. He'd become convinced it was necessary. Harry finally said, "I was tired because I didn't allow him to recover sufficiently to issue orders. He hasn't been sensible for a fortnight, mostly unconscious."

"So what's your plan now?"

"Rest and eat. Recover. I won't hit him again until I'm much fitter, but then I'll throw everything in, go for the kill. Strengthening Potion then could make all the difference."

Snape said, "I was very impressed when I saw you hit him. He seemed to be in enormous pain."

Harry looked at the table-cloth. His face was grim. "It's a horrible thing. We both hurt when we collide. I hate doing it, but I have to. Even if I could defeat him in a fair duel, he would never allow me the chance. I want him out of my head, and the only way is to slash at his mind."

"In what state is he at the moment?"

"Comatose. Pettigrew keeps him clean. I could have suggested to Voldemort he kill him for incompetence or something, but I can't stand the thought of him being left to lie in his own dirt."

"He doesn't have access to a healer, as far as I know."

"He tried hard to avoid allowing anyone to see him sick. But that ended on the day of the Quidditch match."

"There have been no meetings since."

"Did you know Bellatrix Lestrange is dead?"

Snape nodded, "And Avery."

"I didn't know about Avery. I only know what Voldemort knows."

Snape disputed, "He must know about Avery."

"I told you. He hasn't been sensible."

"That bad?"

Harry replied, certainty in his voice, "Just as long as nothing interferes, I will win. It may only be because of the spell he used to renew his body, but in this respect, I am the stronger."

"Then you will allow me to ensure that nothing interferes, as best as I can. We will go to your bedroom now, you take off your outer clothing, and cooperate when I have a look at you."

Harry sighed, "If you must, Professor."

Snape did his measurements and consulted his charts. The boy was severely undersized, and the Nisco Monitor showed the results expected by a sick, or very old man. His weight was appallingly low. He finally asked, "So what are you planning on doing today, Harry?"

"Do you have a TV?"

"I can get one."

Harry laughed, "No need for that, Severus. Do you have any books?"

"Some. My main library is at the Family Home, but there's a few dozen here."

"Good. I'll find a book that's not a reference book."

An hour later, Snape raised his voice, "Radshi!"

The elf appeared, and said, "The young master is asleep in the garden, Master Severus. He has a book on his lap."

Snape nodded, "I've made a list of things required for him. I want you to bring them from Snape Manor."

"Yes, Master Severus. Master Severus, is Harry Potter going to defeat the Dark Lord?"

"We can only hope, Radshi."

"He looks sick."

"We need to get him well. The special high energy drink with every meal, and between meals, and ensure that Livikah puts maximum nutrition into whatever she cooks."

"She knows that, Master Severus."

Snape smiled. There was real hope, in the person of a skinny boy with over-long hair for a boy. A skinny boy who could make a great wizard scream in pain, because he thought it.

Six days later, Harry said to Snape, "He's awake, and there's no permanent damage."

"How are you feeling?"

"I need more time. I'm not fit enough yet."

"I agree. Does it hurt when you simply check on him?"

"Not badly."

"Then maybe just keep a check on him for a time."

Harry was frowning. "I might just interrupt his sleep a few times, like he used to do to me. Plus if he tries to give orders that affect our safety. I don't want him to return to full health, or I'll lose what I've gained."

Snape nodded, "You're probably the best judge of how to attack the problem."

Harry grinned at him and said, "I'm shocked at you, Professor Snape. Admitting a mere boy might know better than you do."

Snape said dryly, "Only in this respect, Mr. Potter."

"I'm very grateful, you know, Severus. You're giving me exactly what I need."

"Including films to watch?"

"I've stopped going to sleep in the middle of them."

***x***

Hermione Granger opened her mouth at the headlines of the Daily Prophet, _Harry Potter Missing! Where is the Boy Who Lived? _The story continued, _Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, admits that our Harry may be in the hands of He Who Must Not Be Named. If so, where is our hope? Is the Child of Destiny at the mercy of his enemy? _The story went on, sensationalist.

Hermione was aghast. If neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore knew where he was, he had to be in terrible danger. Maybe someone had claimed the reward. Maybe he was dead.

In a different household, Molly Weasley also exclaimed in horror, but Fred said, "It's Harry, Mum. He doesn't trust the Ministry, and he doesn't trust Dumbledore. He's probably perfectly safe, holed up somewhere."

Ron said, "But he was supposed to be at his relatives, like always."

"Don't you remember him having bars on his window that time? He's probably chosen to go somewhere else."

"He told me they don't belt him or anything any more, frightened that he might take revenge."

***x***

Snape mentioned to Harry, "An Order meeting tonight. I still consider it best they have no idea where you are."

Harry nodded. He had to be ruthless now, even if Neville and Hermione and Ron were worried. He had a job to do.

Snape was relieved that the boy wasn't wanting to send letters to his friends. Voldemort's Inner Circle might be in disarray, but there was still a reward, and the Dark Lord had hundreds of lesser servants whose dream was to achieve something sufficiently valuable to bring them to the notice of their Lord. They were not even getting mail where they were, but the house-elves made trips between Snape Manor and their current home, and Snape was keeping up with what was happening outside their quiet haven.

When he woke the following morning, Harry made his daily check on Voldemort, but the wizard was lethargic, unthinking. Pettigrew looked after him, but out of fear rather than devotion. Harry considered himself lucky in Snape, who was strictly impersonal, and yet whom he was beginning to trust implicitly. If he could rely on Snape looking after him, he could throw more of his efforts into the fight. At best, he reckoned he was going to be pretty wiped out by the time Voldemort was dead. At worst, he'd wind up dead, leaving Voldemort alive, but he was determined that was not going to happen. If he went too far along that road, Snape was to stop him. Better to rally and fight again, than push too hard.

At breakfast, Snape smiled at the boy, and asked, "Do you want to know about your OWLs?"

Harry looked up, surprised, "Of course."

"Not remarkable, according to Albus, but you didn't fail anything."

"That's good. Divination, do you know?"

"You do Divination?"

"Afraid so. The examiner seemed as batty as Trelawney, who loves to predict my death in any of a dozen gory ways."

Snape drawled, "Typical of so-called Seers."

"Thing is, I reckon I might have got an Outstanding in that. He stared when my name was announced, and it's such a ridiculous subject anyway. So the time came when I looked into the globe, and I sort of gasped, and told him I saw a dirty great snake swallowing me up. And then I half-sobbed, pushed hair away from my forehead in a distraught sort of fashion, so he saw my scar, and whispered that I didn't like looking into the future." He grinned at Snape, "I think I saw tears in his eyes! Poor little Harry Potter, best give him a good mark to lighten his last days."

Snape stared at him incredulously, and burst into laughter. Harry was delighted. He hadn't thought that Snape could laugh like that. He didn't think he'd ever head him properly laugh.

Ten days later, Harry was no longer smiling. The battle was about to resume. He was going to hurt, and be hurt. Snape walked with him around the worn track on the inside of the high walls. It was too risky for him to venture outside the walls. Harry was walking fast, jerkily, almost frantically.

Abruptly, he demanded, "You can't just AK him, can you?"

Snape tried to be patient, "I told you. His servants take a Blood Vow. Even making a firm intention to kill him would result in my sudden death."

"And you can't tell me where he is? It would be so much easier to kill him using a spell, or even a knife or gun."

"It's the same. I cannot tell you where he is."

Harry sighed, and stopped abruptly, staring at the sky.

Snape asked impersonally, "Afraid of the pain?"

"Yes."

Snape crossed his fingers. Surely the boy wouldn't fail him now!

Harry said abruptly, "I don't want to do it to him." And then he muttered, so that Snape nearly missed it, "He's my brother!"

Snape closed his mouth. His brother? Maybe he'd best not pursue that. Harry walked again, and then sighed. "You should not interrupt. I'll probably go for several hours without a break. What I'll try to do is render him unconscious, and then keep him unconscious while I slash at his mind. I'll keep at him, with only short breaks during the days. I'll have to sleep at night, but I'll just continue attacking, every day, without fail. This time, he will not recover. This time there will be permanent damage."

"Could it go the other way?"

"I don't think so. I'm fully fit, and he's still sick and weak."

"Have you touched him since you came here?"

"All I've done is check on him now and then."

The sitting room was already prepared. Harry fussed around, even changing his jeans to a pair of trackpants. Took a drink of water, made an unnecessary trip to the toilet. But finally, reluctance in his every action, he sat and closed his eyes.

Pettigrew sat a meal in front of his master and waited nervously. Voldemort poked at the poorly cooked meal, but it seemed too much effort to complain. Wormtail was the only one left to him now. But then the first scream rent the air, and Voldemort arched his body in agony, hitting the back of his head on the chair, and then crashing to the floor, chair and all.

Wormtail took away the meal. He'd leave soon, take the stash of accumulated money, and make a life somewhere no-one would find him. A different country, where he'd live as a Muggle. No-one would look for a powerful wizard among the Muggle population. Peter Pettigrew had never admitted to himself that he'd never been a powerful wizard.

It was a day like the past ten days. Harry woke, dragged himself for a quick shower, accepted a high energy drink from Snape, nibbled at a piece of toast, and then went to the sitting room. Snape held up the Nisco Monitor, and he paused for the measurements to be taken. Snape nodded. Neither of them had said a word. Harry's face was hollow-cheeked, very pale, and as he'd missed his weekly shave, showing some very slight stubble. There were dark circles under his eyes, but they still glittered with his utmost determination. He'd done so much damage. Why wouldn't the bastard _die? _It was the thirty-first July, and Harry Potter was sixteen. He sat, leaned his head against the high back of the chair, and closed his eyes.

Snape looked at the figures he'd noted down, grim-faced. They were worse now than when he'd first arrived, though at least the boy was a touch heavier, thanks to the drinks he pressed on him. He no longer offered water, just the V-Vak Potion, flavoured with chocolate, and very sweet. Harry would have failed by now with any less than expert care.

He went to the other room before calling Vriah and instructing her to keep an eye on Master Harry. The Death Eaters were forbidden to visit Voldemort's home unless summoned, but it was time.

Pettigrew cringed away when Snape arrived, and Snape looked at the gaunt body on the bed. It was horrible seeing the great lord reduced to this. He wrinkled his nose, aimed his wand, and muttered the cleaning spell, followed by the deodorising spell. That was better.

He turned to Pettigrew, "How long has he been like this?"

"Since it started, a week and a half."

Snape ordered, "Do not leave him until it's finished. Keep him clean. If I find that you have abandoned him before he dies, there will not be a safe place on this Earth for you."

Pettigrew said quickly, "Of course I will not leave him. I look after him."

"Do you feed him?"

"I can't, but I know the Hydration Spell."

Snape nodded. The Hydration Spell was the best that could be done for a man deeply unconscious. Wizards did not practise any form of invasive medicine, including intravenous feeding. If Voldemort was unconscious long enough, he would die of starvation.

Snape finally said, "I will return in a few days. If the Master is not clean, then you will be sorry."

Pettigrew muttered resentfully, "Of course, Mr. Snape."

"Has anyone else been?"

"Rollings, a few days ago. No-one else."

"Very well. Do not, of course, presume to give orders in the name of our Master."

"No, Mr. Snape."

Snape wondered whether to call in at Hogwarts, as he would usually do from time to time, but decided not to. He didn't want to hear any more furious ranting from Dumbledore about Potter's cowardice and disobedience, running away when there was a job to do. It was no longer assumed that Harry was a captive. Surely they would have heard, if so.

The great and glorious Lord Voldemort. It had seemed logical to follow him once. The need to take over the Ministry was obvious, when their complacency and corruption was putting all of Wizardkind in danger. Far too many Muggles knew about wizards, an inevitable consequence of 'Muggle-born' children being allowed to remain with their parents. Snape fully agreed with Voldemort that when a wizard child was born to a Muggle mother, then that child should be removed from their parents as soon as possible, even if he had to be put down. Voldemort was adamant that a child was better dead than raised in an institution, a result of his own unfortunate upbringing. And maybe the other things had been, as well. That after a time, power had become his only real goal, and then Bellatrix Lestrange had joined him. It had been the woman who'd taught him to enjoy watching the pain of others as an end in itself, rather than as a means to power.

Muggle-born children. Hermione Granger was one. It was just so easy for a wizard to rape a Muggle woman. Even a thirteen-year-old wizard could do the Paralysis Spell. A clever wizard who could use the Imperius Curse, could select any woman he chose, have her do exactly what he wanted, and simply make her forget afterward. Often, a woman would raise a child never knowing that it was not the biological child of her husband. There was a pretence that Muggle-born children 'just happened.' Accepting rape and the results of rape was a recipe for disaster, Snape felt. Had they forgotten the Holocaust? Wizards had been nearly wiped out then, and Muggles had far better weapons now than they'd had in the Middle Ages.

Snape sighed and returned to his safe-house, currently providing a refuge for the half-blood boy determined to kill the greatest wizard in generations. It was not that Snape didn't agree that Voldemort needed to be killed. He'd been unbalanced for years, even before he'd killed Potter's maternal grandparents, and then his parents. Yet his original ideas had been good. Ruthless maybe, but good.

_***x***_

Molly Weasley said to her family after dinner, "We're having a birthday cake for Harry. He's sixteen today."

Arthur said carefully, "Molly, we haven't heard a word from him. Owls can't find him, not even his own owl. I'm afraid..."

"There are enchantments that can protect a place. It doesn't mean he's dead. He might just be in a protected place."

"You Know Who might be able to do sufficiently powerful enchantments, maybe Dumbledore, but I doubt if there's anyone else alive who can."

Molly said firmly, but with a hint of tears, "We're having a birthday cake for him, and we're going to believe he's alive until we know different."

Ginny spoke stoutly, "I believe he's alive. He couldn't be dead."

Arthur said, "Albus said he was perfectly safe at the home of his relatives, but he's gone."

"We know that he left voluntarily, which means that he might be alive. And we're going to eat birthday cake for him, and those of us old enough will drink a toast to him." She spoke fiercely, "He's like a son to me. I will not give up on him."

"Yes, Mum," and Arthur patted her shoulder. In the corner, Hedwig hooted softly.

Ginny went to Ron's room that night, and sat on his bed. "Remember him fighting that dragon? He just doesn't give up."

"And the Baselisk. That never got into the news, that Harry Potter saved you by killing a Baselisk."

"That fight at the beginning of the year. I didn't see it, but they say he took down eight Death Eaters by himself."

"He said that was exaggerated, but there have been other things, that hardly anyone knows about. I'm with Mum. I won't believe he's dead until I see it."

Ginny was silent a long time, and then said, very quietly, "What if he's not on the Hogwarts Express in a month's time?"

"Then maybe what he's doing... Maybe it'll take longer than the summer holidays."

"I had a letter from Hermione. She thinks he's dead. She said that he would have written. He's too considerate to leave us worrying."

In his chair, eyes closed, Harry chipped away at Voldemort's mind, relentless. He'd scarcely given a thought to his friends. It was something he had to do, and he might or might not survive. Telling his friends anything at all had been too much of a risk. He'd made that decision very early.

***x***

Vriah popped into Snape's presence, and said urgently, "It's Master Harry. He's dying."

Snape dropped his newspaper and hurried. He looked at Harry and asked, "Vriah? He looks all right?"

Vriah was wringing her hands, "Take the readings, Master. You'll see. You have to stop him now."

Snape pulled the monitor from his pocket, and touched it to Harry's arm. It had been expensive, that monitor, but Snape deemed it essential. Now he looked at the figures, the LV and Energy levels dropping as he watched, even though the boy showed no outward difference, merely sitting with his head resting back, eyes closed, concentrating. He didn't appear to have even noticed their presence. It was two days after his birthday.

Snape said quickly, "Vriah, get me the special potion that I showed you." His voice turned more gentle, "Harry, you have to come back now." There was no response, and Snape had to continue, insisting again and again, becoming more urgent.

Harry finally opened his eyes, looking confused. Snape said firmly, "It's enough. You have to stop now."

Harry said uncertainly, "Stop? He's not dead."

"You have to stop now. You don't touch him again for at least a week."

Harry shook his head, and said suddenly, "I feel awful."

"That's why you have to stop." Harry got uncertainly to his feet, but his knees gave way. Snape scooped him up and carried him to bed, propping him up with an arm around him, and feeding him the potion that was a strong restorative, but also would make him sleep.

A long time later, Harry tried to get out of bed, and when Vriah said he had to stay there, mumbled something about the toilet. Vriah said, "I'll get Master."

Snape found Harry collapsed on the floor. A cleaning spell was needed, but then he was put back to bed and more of the potion administered. Snape had a strong suspicion that if he was allowed, he'd go straight back to his self-imposed task.

For Harry, the next few days passed in a blur. Sometimes he was half conscious, and was aware that he was being fed that chocolate drink, or potions, but the voice of Snape reassured him that he was safe, and he didn't resist the firm instruction that he was simply to rest and not think.

He finally opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling, confused. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he certainly felt much better than he would have expected. Voldemort was alive. He could still feel him there, in his head. He wanted a shower, that was most urgent. Magic might be able to 'clean' a person, but he never felt really clean unless he'd had a proper shower, with hot water and soap.

Vriah reported to Snape, "Up and showering. He nearly fell once, but recovered himself."

"Very good. A large breakfast, I think."

Harry was longer than Snape expected, but then arrived in the dining room, hair shampooed, face smooth again, and wearing a pair of the jeans and a neat white shirt that Snape had organised for him. He said to Snape, a bit sheepishly, "You kept me alive."

Snape said smoothly, "The job's not finished. You're still needed."

"I know how to do it now, I think. If I'm right, I never needed to hurt him that much."

"What do you mean?"

"It's hard to explain." He was already picking up a knife and fork, and eyeing the hot breakfast ravenously.

Snape nodded, "Tell me after."

Harry ate. Vriah watched dotingly, until Snape said, "I will have another coffee and a small roll, thank you, Vriah. Some fresh fruit, sugared, for Harry."

Harry glanced up at him, amused. He might have objected to being treated as if he didn't know what he wanted, except that he hadn't thought of fruit, and yet now he couldn't wait. Snape always seemed to know exactly what he needed.

Harry finally put down his utensils, thanked Vriah, and said, "I've lost track of time. How long was I out?"

"All night and half the morning. That's all."

Harry looked at him, surprised. Snape kicked himself. This boy was attacking another man with just his mind. He should have realised that he would know truth from lies, maybe even know a person's thoughts. He said abruptly, "Sorry. I assumed you'd be upset if you knew it was long enough to need..." He hesitated.

Harry shrugged, "I've spent days in a bed unconscious before. I know what's needed." He glanced at Snape, and grinned, though a bit shamefaced, "Thank goodness for magic, eh?"

Snape laughed, "Thank goodness!"

"So how long?"

"Four nights, three days. The fight lasted thirteen days before I stopped you."

"I would not have thought I could continue so long."

"How is he?"

Harry closed his eyes, and frowned.

Snape asked, "Harry?"

"He's dreaming." Abruptly, he stood and said, quite politely, "Would you please excuse me, Professor?"

"Of course."

Snape watched after the boy, frowning and wondering what had disturbed him. Outside, Harry stared at the sky. It was the first time he'd been outside for a long time. He guessed it had to be August now. He found the garden seat, and closed his eyes. Usually even this contact hurt, but this time it was painless. Voldemort whimpered in his sleep. "Maman?" Maman was supposed to come when he cried, but instead he saw a woman in Nurse's uniform. "You were a bad boy, Tom. She doesn't want you any more."

The full grown wizard flinched and opened his eyes. Instead of the woman who'd said she was his new mother, there was a big man, who bent over oddly. Pettigrew said, "Master?" Voldemort tried to say that his name was Tom, but his voice was all wrong, and the man was too big, and his body was wrong. He screamed for Maman. Maman would fix it. It was all wrong!

In Severus Snape's garden, Harry Potter cried.

Peter Pettigrew, for reasons known only to himself, made it public that there was no longer a reward for the death of Harry Potter.

Snape thought he'd best leave the boy alone until he was ready to talk. Voldemort had been dreaming. That was all he'd said. He made a quick trip to see him for himself. Pettigrew was still there, and showed him Voldemort, just lying there, eyes open, and with a hopeless expression in them.

Pettigrew said, "I'm not sure what he knows. He doesn't recognise me."

"I see."

Harry was quiet at dinner, and only afterwards did he say, "I'll leave it a few days. I want to finish quickly now. I'm sure I know how. I think all I have to do is strike at a particular part of his mind. All that pain was not necessary. If I'm strong enough when I attack again, it could be over in minutes."

"Are you sure?"

Harry spoke irritably, "Of course I'm not sure. I've never killed anyone before."

Snape asked quietly, "Do you have to kill him? It seems to me that Lord Voldemort is destroyed." Harry fiddled with his cutlery.

Snape persisted, "You've done enough. There is no need to take the risk of dying because he dies."

"You don't know... We're the same, you see. Just that I had someone to love me for a short time, and no-one has loved him. So that changed a part of him, and he does things I could not. They called him a freak when he was a child, the same as me. He was not looked after, sometimes knocked about, the same as me. He wanted fame, because it would be something to make up. Maybe I would have done as well, except that the moment I re-entered the world of wizards, every person knew who I was. I didn't need to achieve anything to be famous."

Snape spoke gently, "And now?"

"He's a tiny child called Tom. Everything is frightening. And there's something else. He knows he's lost something. He is suffering now as much as when he was screaming in pain. He is my brother, I have subjected him to torture, I have taken away everything."

"You said before he was your brother."

"He's always been there, close. Even before I knew who he was, he was a part of me. If we'd wanted, we could probably have established a cordial telepathic relationship, even when we're separated by many miles."

Tom accepted the soft food spooned into his mouth. He didn't understand anything, but his body needed food. Afterward, he just lay there. A comforting voice whispered in his head, _Hello Tom._ Tom looked around, confused. _It's all right. You can't see me. I just thought you might like some company._

Tom whimpered, "Don't like that man."

_That's just Peter, Tom. He looks after you. _

"He's not nice!"

Harry told him, _Peter will keep you safe and warm. He will give you good things to eat. And very soon, Maman will come for you. She always wanted you. She loves you. You are her Tom. _The voice was so comforting, warm and reassuring. Tom went to sleep.

Harry visited often in the next few days. Tom learned to listen for him, even to call to him. Harry told him stories, and he told him that Maman loved him, and would be there very soon.

Snape watched the boy with worry. Really, it would be far better simply to leave the situation as it was. The breaking of a Soul Bond could be very dangerous. It all depended on how close the bond had been.

A week after both Harry and Tom woke, Harry ate his breakfast, and then said calmly to Snape, "I'm going to do it now."

Tom smiled when he heard Harry in his mind. Harry told him a story of how it would be when Maman came for him. The story was direct from his own fantasies when he'd been little, desperate for a mother he sometimes thought he almost remembered. Harry whispered aloud, "Sometimes it hurts just a little when someone loves you very much. But then she will pick you up and love you as all little boys deserve to be loved."

He squeezed with his mind, and little Tom, formerly Lord Voldemort, died. Harry gave a cry of agony and clutched his head. The pain! His mind was raw, with a gaping wound where Tom had been. He was dying, he was sure of it.

Snape grasped his hands, and snapped, "Rekil Verociah Potion, quickly, Vriah." The potion would combat shock. Meantime, Snape sought to soothe Harry, who was twisting his head from side to side, sobbing his pain. He resisted being handled, trying to fight off Snape. Snape was ruthless, and followed up the first potion with another, that knocked him out.

Then he went to see if Voldemort was dead. To his surprise, two other Death Eaters were already there, and Rollings explained, "I felt the Dark Mark burn, but just for an instant."

Pettigrew said, "He died quietly in the end. He was smiling even."

Snape said quietly, "He was a great man."

Rollings said, "Great or not, I count myself very lucky to have survived him."

"You are not known by the Aurors, are you, Wilfred? You can go back to your life."

The other said, "I wish I could." He grinned, "I had a good ride, though. Some of the things we did together, especially in those early years... Well, we had a grand time!"

"A funeral?"

Snape suggested, "Our Master enjoyed being feared. If we don't tell anyone, he'll be feared forever."

Rollings laughed, "A preserving charm, then. And we just leave him here."

The other grinned, "And the stupid Ministry will go on whispering stories about _He Who Must Not Be Named."_

"It always amused him, that they were afraid even to say his name."

Snape said, "Pettigrew, his best robes, if you please. He will lie in state."

Once the body was ready, one by one, and with reverence, mostly sincere, the wizards paid their last respects to their Master. He was left alone then, surrounded by luxury, smiling serenely, and lying at peace on his own bed, his wand held firm in his right hand as was proper for a wizard.

Snape stayed awake that night, watching Harry who didn't seem much affected by the potions he'd been given. He muttered fretfully, and he wept in his sleep. According to the Nisco readings, he was not in immediate danger of death, but he was in a great deal of distress. Hecatema Bonds, Veela Bonds, and Bijn Yusdu Bonds all had the characteristic that if one partner died, the other did as well, though the time it took differed considerably. There were even Marriage Bonds strong enough to do that. Harry finally slept more quietly toward morning, though for a time, it did indeed seem that he was fading away.

Snape found the readings better in the morning, though Harry only lay there indifferently. He did accept a potion, before turning his back on Snape and curling up, closing his eyes. Snape frowned, worrying. The boy had done his job, fulfilled destiny, if not exactly as the Prophecy indicated. He'd done it at a distance, and by his mind, not by his hand. He did not want him to die because of the accidental Magical Bond, now broken.

He bullied him out of bed for lunch, and tried to talk to him. "There's to be no announcement of his death, just as you wanted. Maybe when you're back at school, we'll try and arrange for him to be discovered. The enchantments hiding his home should have died with his death." Harry glanced at him, but said nothing. Snape said, "You have done well, you know. You have achieved your aim."

Harry replied, "I tortured him slowly until he lost his mind. And then I killed him. It is not _well!"_

"If it was publicised, you would be a hero."

Harry shook his head, and said bitterly, "I'd probably be feared. That I can kill someone with my mind... It must _never _be known."

"You might be right. I will be silent."

Harry was picking at his lunch, and finally pushed it away. Snape urged, "Have the drink."

Harry glanced at the V-Vak Potion, and said, "I _hate_ chocolate." He stood abruptly, but bit out, "I'm sorry. I'm being ungrateful."

He strode away, leaving Snape very troubled. He, himself, knew some mild regret that his lord had died so ignominiously, but it was greatly overwhelmed by his feeling of relief. He was free now, but felt a sense of obligation to Harry, not to mention that he'd become fond of him.

Harry walked around and around inside the high walls. He wanted to walk further, but Snape would be at risk if he was spotted. There could easily be Death Eaters out for revenge, and Snape had been a traitor to them for a long time.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 4:**_

Harry fell into lethargy. Snape worried. He didn't think they were much at risk, and Harry urgently needed _something._ He was just a boy, barely sixteen. And what childhood had he had? Neglected and abused. He'd understood Voldemort too well. What goes with children and summer holidays? Severus Snape decided to take Harry to the beach. Not a wizarding resort, but a nice place in Devon that he remembered from his own childhood. As far as he knew, it was still much the same.

Harry made no objection. He didn't seem able to think for himself these days. There were two weeks left before school was to resume.

Three days into the holiday, Snape watched Harry as he wandered listlessly along the beach at the edge of the water. He'd been surprised when the boy had said that he'd never been to the beach. He hadn't been eating, and again he looked skin and bone. He went back to his book.

Harry noticed a building project in progress, and looked at the sandcastle with awakening interest. Walls and turrets, decorated with shells. A girl of about twelve said, "You can help if you like. We need to finish the walls before the tide comes in."

Her sister said, "He's a _boy._ He won't play with girls!"

Snape was comfortable, a chair, beach umbrella, and the latest book by his favourite author. He enjoyed detective stories. He didn't even glance up for half an hour, and when he did, he didn't see Harry straightaway. He scanned along the shoreline, looking for the boy, and then searched out to sea, suddenly worried. Harry had been so depressed and he couldn't swim well.

Snape stood, anxious, and walked toward the water, peering. Only when he turned did he notice the three children quite close, with their sand sculpture. He was astounded. The boy who seemed so adult, was sitting in the sand, carefully arranging a lining of shells along the top of a wall. He heard him comment, "The moat will soon fill."

The older girl said bossily, "The wall is good, Harry, but you have to make the moat a lot deeper." Obediently, Harry started deepening the shallow trench that was the moat. Snape shook his head and returned to his chair.

Three days later, Harry bounced into the tiny flat they shared, and said, "Bess and Kate are going to a fun fair tomorrow. Do you have any objection if I go with them?"

"Of course not. I'm not responsible for you, you know."

Harry grinned at him, "I thought it only polite to ask."

"What about money. How much do you need?"

Harry looked confused, "No idea."

"I suppose you've never gone to a fun fair, either."

"I've scarcely been anywhere. I told you that."

Snape asked curiously, "How old do they think you are?"

Harry looked sheepish. "I thought it advisable to let them think I was not much older than they are. I think their mother might be suspicious of a sixteen-year-old."

Snape handed over some Muggle money, and Harry said casually that he was building up quite a debt.

"Do you want to visit Gringotts? You do have access to some of your money, don't you?"

"I have a certain amount I'm allowed to withdraw each year. Then once I'm seventeen, Dumbledore can't limit it. I'm not quite sure why he's allowed to limit it now. He's not my guardian."

"So, Gringotts? And we can get hold of your list of required books for next year."

Harry hesitated, and then spoke very quietly, "Severus, not yet?"

Snape nodded, "No hurry. But I'll have to return to Hogwarts two days before the start of the school year."

"I could just stay here for a little while..."

Snape nodded, "So you could."

Harry was relieved. There was still a terrible wound in him, but here at the beach, a long way from his own world, it didn't hurt as much.

A few days later, there was another friendship that surprised Snape even more than the one with the young girls. This time it was a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. Snape remarked the third time they went out together that she seemed a little predatory.

Harry grinned, "And guess who's loving being the prey. Would there were more predators like that out there!"

Snape raised his eyebrows, "You don't mean..."

Harry laughed, "She told me she adores initiating sweet little virgin boys. She's here for a week yet. She might find another boy, of course. Maybe someone a bit better built."

Snape glanced over at him, "You're looking better every day. And I swear you're taller!"

"Am I?"

To Snape's amusement, Harry went to the mirror, and studied himself. He finally said, "I don't look sick any more, but I can't see that I'm taller."

"In six days, school starts. What are you planning on doing?"

Harry looked down, and finally said quietly, "I'm dreading going back. It's like being here... It's the first time in my life I've really been free. I know it can't last, but I don't want it to end just yet."

Snape said casually, "You're a good student. It won't matter if you're a little late going back."

Harry said gratefully, "Thank you, Severus. For everything."

Snape smiled, "Look at my forearm. The Dark Mark is no longer dark." And besides, Harry made him laugh. Severus Snape had not had much laughter in his life.

Harry was having a wonderful time. The girls, Kate and Bess, left for home, but there were other people met at the beach. A young mother, who let him hold her baby and play with her toddler, a group of boys his own age, who liked to play a ball game, flexing muscles and pretending every girl in sight was watching and admiring. And Catherina extended her stay. Sex was wonderful, and Harry confided to Snape that if there was absolutely nothing else, life was worth living in order to have as much sex as possible.

Snape laughed at him, and said that it was time he found someone himself.

Harry asked, "You were married once, weren't you?"

"The healer said it was a brain aneurysm. She was only very young, and there was no warning. It left a hole in me."

Harry nodded, "I guess one just has to work around the holes."

"I guess so."

The time came when Snape said, "I leave tomorrow. I'll call in every few evenings, make sure you're OK, and I'll leave enough money to pay for rent. You know where the manager's office is. You can have as much time as you need."

Harry looked at him uncertainly, and said, "Not forever. Maybe another two weeks. I am getting better."

"There's no hurry. Vriah will make sure you're well fed."

"Actually, I think it's better that Vriah not come. I'm perfectly capable of cooking, and if she's not here, I can invite Garry and Lisa over."

"Doesn't Garry have an older sister? Should I phone ahead? I'd hate to interrupt a seduction."

Harry grinned, "I've yet to seduce anyone, but a phone call would be convenient."

Harry was accepting a lot of money from Snape, but as Snape said, he was owed something. He felt that the wizarding world had never had the right to demand that he be the one to take on Voldemort. It was an unfair burden to put on a child, and part of his reluctance to acknowledge that Voldemort was dead, was because he resented that expectation. He didn't want them to know they'd got what they wanted from him. And the money? There was a large inheritance waiting for him at the Gringott's vault. Once he could access his money, it would be a minor matter to repay Severus. Severus. Funny that. Severus had never attempted to act like a father, even a guardian, but they'd become easy companions. What if Severus hadn't been there to pull him back from Voldemort? Voldemort would still have been left brain damaged, and few would care that Harry died doing it. Maybe Hermione, Neville, the others. He should really let them know he was alive. He supposed there was a post office somewhere...

Snape packed all his things the following morning, and said casually, "Best if there are no signs I was here." Harry nodded, feeling bereft. Snape said, "You won't be lonely. Make friends with Garry's sister."

"Her name's Amy."

***x***

The Hogwarts students gathered on the platform at King's Cross station. Many were slow to board the train, looking for Harry. The newspaper stated that he was almost certainly dead, but his friends had seen him survive impossible odds before. There were reporters there, and two Aurors.

Minerva McGonnagal was also there. If Harry put in an appearance, stern handling might just be the difference between a tame return to school, or a further flight from his destiny. The reporters questioned her, and she confirmed that there had been no word of him.

"Do you think he is dead?"

"He was in poor health. I do not know what has happened to him, but I am not hopeful."

"Is it true that his aunt and uncle abused him?"

"There is no evidence that they had anything to do with his disappearance."

"Is it true that his aunt and uncle _abused_ him?"

McGonnagal spoke in an exasperated tone, "Do you really think that Albus Dumbledore would have entrusted them with his care if there was any truth in that allegation?"

"Dumbledore himself placed him there?"

"Yes."

The line of questioning was dropped. Albus Dumbledore did no wrong.

Harry's younger acquaintances had gone. The summer was over and there was school. Catherina returned to work. Yet still, Harry shrank from the thought of returning to Hogwarts. Every day, he walked, exploring the town. Every morning, he ran on the beach, only short distances to begin with, but going further every day. There were hills, but it seemed that he didn't yet have the strength to climb hills.

One evening, he impressed Amy, Garry and Lisa by putting on a dinner for them. It was a skill learned early, taught by Aunt Petunia. Putting on a good dinner was one of the few ways he could please her, but more importantly, he had sufficient to eat when he cooked. He had something in mind that night, and when Garry asked how he was allowed to get away with living all alone, he told them he was an orphan, and no-one much cared what he did. The four youngsters talked late into the night, and then Garry and Lisa decided it was time to go. Amy looked at Harry and said, "If you offered another cup of coffee, I wouldn't say no."

Two hours later, Harry stroked Amy into wakefulness, and asked, "Will you be in trouble if you stay out all night?"

Amy replied, "I might," and kissed him. "You're better than any other boy I've tried."

"You make me very happy."

"Is it why you're sad, that you're an orphan?"

Harry said quickly, "I'm not sad. I don't even remember my parents."

Amy kissed him again, gently, and then rose and started looking for clothes. Harry sat up, unselfconscious about his nudity. Catherina had been a very good teacher.

A couple of days later, he paused in front of a tattooist's shop, attracted by a design of 'The Giant Killer.' It was a pity he was so slightly built. That would look great on a brawny forearm. He had slain a giant after all. For the first time, Harry felt a very small pride in his act.

Amy grabbed his arm and hauled him away, "Don't you dare!"

"How about a piercing then? It'd be fun to go back to school with a ring through an eyebrow."

"You have to be eighteen. They don't allow children."

Harry looked back, "I bet they do."

"Don't be silly. You haven't got ID."

"Of course I have. It says I'm eighteen."

Amy turned and regarded him, finally concluding, "You look thirteen! And if you want to spend your money, I suggest you have your eyes fixed. Laser surgery is very good these days."

"I can't afford it. I will one day though." Not laser surgery, but there were spells that could correct vision. It would be nice not to need glasses, but when Madam Pomfrey had suggested arranging a visit to a specialist healer, Dumbledore had refused permission.

Amy said firmly, "Investigate. There might be a waiting list, but National Health probably covers it."

"You're right. I should investigate."

Snape called in that evening, and Harry raised the subject. Snape suggested, "Simply threaten to tell a reporter that Dumbledore refuses it."

"I thought of returning to school with no glasses, tattoos and a ring through my eyebrow."

Snape shook his head, "Sorry, even with a ring, you're not going to look very tough."

Harry heaved a mock mournful sigh, "I guess not."

Snape said, "That reminds me," and he pulled the Nisco Monitor out of his pocket.

Harry groaned, Snape smiled slightly, and said, "Indulge me!"

Harry held out an arm, and Snape checked the monitor and smiled in satisfaction, "You have a High Normal LV. This must be the first time I've actually seen what you should be." He pulled out another monitor, "Weight now, and then take off your shirt." Harry complied, and Snape was very pleased, "You actually begin to look like something other than a plucked chicken."

Harry grinned, "Amy doesn't say I look like a plucked chicken!"

Snape laughed, "You're doing all right for a boy of sixteen. You won't have the opportunities once back at Hogwarts."

"There are ways. Fred and George gave me and Ron quite a lecture about ways and means last year."

"You are talking to a Professor, Potter!"

"Severus, that's not fair! This is off the record!"

Snape grinned, "Do you think the teachers don't know every last hiding place for student trysts?"

Harry said brazenly, "Yes."

Snape shook his head, and asked, "Dinner?"

Harry went to the fridge, "Steak Dianne?"

"I thought I'd take you out."

Harry looked at him, troubled, "You're spending too much on me."

"I was left a fortune, and never have found much to spend it on. I only agree to let you pay it back because you insist."

"What if we're seen together? Wizards go to Muggle restaurants too, sometimes."

"Steak Dianne, then."

Snape regarded the boy in pure satisfaction that evening as they talked. He no longer looked pale and haggard, no longer had those haunted eyes, and he was positive he was taller as well as heavier. There were still times when he had a look of lostness about him, but it was becoming less often. He was still thin, just not _as_ thin.

Harry asked curiously, "What?"

Snape smiled slightly, "Catherina. She'll never know how much good she did when she chose you."

"I was a bit cautious the first time. I thought it possible that I was actually for a man-friend, rather than for her. I couldn't believe she wanted someone so puny."

Snape asked curiously, "Have you ever struck anything like that?"

"Once. I was nine and decided to try whether living as a street boy was better than my uncle's. Had such a fright I didn't try it again. My uncle mostly only yelled, after all." He spoke in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner.

Snape asked, "Why didn't you tell Dumbledore? Ask to be removed?"

"I did. He insisted that having a home with blood relatives was vital for my safety, though he did mostly allow me to spend part of the holidays with the Weasleys." He smiled, "Mrs. Weasley. She's just such a _mother,_ you know. Quite prepared to adopt me instantly." He laughed ruefully, "And quite prepared to bawl me out for getting into dangerous situations."

"Have you written to her?"

Harry flushed. Of course he had to write to her.

Snape said casually, "No doubt she'll survive a few weeks worry."

"It seems... I'll get around to it."

Snape asked, probingly, "You're all right now?"

Harry looked down again, finally saying, "Soon. I'll be all right soon."

"They're talking about releasing your picture into the Muggle papers. You'll be found soon enough if they do that."

"I can play Quidditch this year. I'll be too late for tryouts for the team, but they like having extras to practise with."

Snape was encouraged. He didn't want to hurry the boy, but he didn't want him to coast forever, either.

Harry was walking again the following day, and paused, watching over the fence at a construction site. It was progressing quickly, as massive pre-cast cement slabs were lifted into position. It was to be a block of holiday units, and he'd been following its progress for the past week. One of the men strolled over, and said, "Back again, boy? Surely you should be at school!"

"I'll be late this year. I was sick." He pointed, "Is that for a swimming pool?"

"Underground garage. Do you want to see?"

Harry beamed at him, "Yes, please."

"I'm Clarry. We'll go to the office first, and get you a hard hat. Regulations."

Clarry enjoyed the diversion of showing the interested boy over the site, pointing out where things were to go, and what was scheduled next.

Harry commented, "There doesn't seem to be much happening today..."

"A delayed delivery."

Harry said thoughtfully, "Building things. It seems such a very _positive _thing to be doing."

"Well, when you grow up, maybe you could be a builder."

Harry grimaced at him, "I'm sixteen, not twelve. I _am_ nearly grown up."

"You're sixteen?"

Harry said ruefully, "Just yesterday, I was told that I no longer look like a plucked chicken. You could at least _pretend_ I look sixteen."

"Sorry, Harry. Do you want to see how the crane works?"

"I'd love to see how the crane works."

Almost every day after that, Clarry would talk about what they were doing, just as long as he showed up in tea or lunch breaks. He wouldn't allow him to help, though. "Against Regulations," he said, and Harry detected his thought that he might hurt himself, that he wasn't strong enough.

There had never been any sport at Hogwarts except for Quidditch, and that was for a select few. Wizards didn't value physical achievement as a rule, but Harry was very tired of being small, and perceived as weak. There was a new sports centre close, and he started going every day, working in the gymnasium until he tired, and then swimming in the heated swimming pool. Better than cold sea-water. After the first few days, an instructor noticed the skinny boy stagger and clutch the handle of the rowing machine. He'd ignored him before, but now asked him his aims. Harry explained that he'd spent too long ill, but he was better now, and just needed to grow a bit, mostly. Harry worked under supervision from then on, and no longer exhausted himself.

Snape checked on him again, and asked whether he was still seeing Amy. Harry said regretfully, that she'd gone home.

"Keeping in touch?"

"She said to, but she was just being polite. She wants someone older."

"It's a pity you're not a sweet little virgin boy any more. You might find another like Catherina."

Harry grinned at him, "I can be a sweet little virgin again, as often as I need. All I have to do is look confused, and say something like - you put _what_ in _where_?"

Snape laughed, "Is that what you did with Catherina?"

"Not exactly."

"School?"

"Can I have a couple more weeks?"

"You're taking a long time."

Harry looked down. Snape said slowly, "Tell me."

Harry shrugged, "Just that I feel as if there's something missing. Like I've had a part of me amputated."

"Amputees learn to live again."

"Of course they do, and it's no longer raw. For a while, it was like a physical injury."

"Yet he was your enemy, who killed your parents."

"Yet he was Tom, a small child who was nearly adopted, and then rejected. If the woman had taken him, he would never have become Lord Voldemort."

"What happened, do you know?"

"I don't know. My guess is that he was no more than three. Maybe there was some accidental magic."

Snape said slowly, "I guess you grew to know him very well."

"In some ways."

He was looking grim again, and Snape sought to lighten the mood, "I always wanted to know whether he actually took Bellatrix to bed?"

Harry shook his head, "I never saw him involved in any sort of sexual activity, not even masturbation. I don't know why."

"He took a sexual pleasure in torturing people, maybe."

Harry shook his head, "I could feel it when he tortured people. It might have given him pleasure, but it was not sexual."

Snape reflected that if it had been, Harry would not have taken such an uncomplicated delight in sex. Really, for someone with his history, the boy was surprisingly undamaged.

There was an Order of the Phoenix meeting a few days later. Snape was in attendance, and replied when Dumbledore questioned, "Nothing to report. I may have lost his trust. I've not been summoned for two months now."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror as well as a member of Dumbledore's group, said, "McKenzie has a theory that he's in Germany, recruiting. There have been several unexplained deaths, most of them Muggle, but two wizards known to be Muggle-born. It is believed that he is still waging war on the mixing of pure and tainted blood."

Arthur Weasley said, "The kids say there's a rumour that Harry is with several Aurors, ready to duel him to the death."

Kingsley shook his head, "There's nothing like that, not even any Aurors missing. All we're doing is searching for Harry. We've even liaised with Muggle police, though they think he's just a runaway. We told them he's fourteen, apt to lie about his age."

Molly Weasley said, "You will be gentle with him, won't you?"

Kingsley answered patiently, "He has not committed any crime. It is just that he's the only one who can beat him. We all know that."

Molly demanded, "How? He is just a _child!_"

Dumbledore looked as wise as he was able, and as benign. "Even now, he picks up any magic spell quickly and easily. He has exceptionally quick reactions. There is more. I had a Hecatema look at him in his first year. She sensed an enormous latent power. He _will_ have the power the Dark Lord knows not, even if he doesn't believe it himself." He shook his head, "We must not blame him for being afraid. His is a difficult destiny."

In spite of his words, Dumbledore was furious with Harry Potter. He'd lost face with his protégé's disappearance. Once retrieved, he would not be allowed to escape again. Snape looked at the headmaster thoughtfully, and the following weekend, he taught Harry to apparate. He also reminded him that he could come to his office at any time, and added, "Even without provoking a Detention."

Harry supposed he should return to school. He supposed... A group of youths started pestering him one morning when he was running, and he wound up having a fist fight with Jimbo. Jimbo could hit harder, but Harry was far quicker. It was good having a fight that ended only in bruises. There was another first that same evening, when he was steered home by Jimbo and his mates, rollicking drunk.

There was also the gym, and Hermann commended him on his growing endurance. Then Clarry said that they'd be starting the next stage of the apartments shortly, and allowed him to work the crane a little, against all regulations, and Monica, a divorcee who was staying in the same block of units, laughed and agreed that she'd enjoy showing a naive young boy some new tricks.

Harry was having a glorious time, and ceased to think of his missing 'brother.' A Muggle policeman noticed him in the area, and remembered a picture of a missing boy. He confirmed the sighting, and made his report. Special instructions coming from a very high level. No interference, just contact James Pettit, and there was a phone number.

***x***

Hermione finished her essay, and then carefully put her notes in a folder. Ron raised an eyebrow, and she said, "It's only been four weeks. As long as he has the notes, he can still catch up."

"He missed an awful lot of school last year. He didn't study for OWLs, so probably did poorly. If he does come back, they might make him do fifth year again."

Hermione looked appalled, "Surely they wouldn't do that to him!"

"They did it to two of the Hufflepuff boys."

"Yes, but they're borderline retarded. Inbred, probably."

"They're from highly respected Pure-blood families."

"Like I said, inbred. It doesn't do much for brains."

Ron Weasley felt a little insulted. His family was also a Pure-blood family, and his mother and father were second cousins. But he had brains. They all did.

***x***

Harry said, "Yes, but Jimbo, I don't have the _money_ to buy a leather jacket."

"It's getting colder, and that light thing you wear is just not good enough."

"It does me."

"Don't fib. You were shivering."

Harry looked at his friend, exasperated, "I told you. My money is limited."

"Have you tried a charity shop?"

Harry was abruptly stiff, "I don't need _charity!"_

"It's not charity. It's just a second-hand clothing shop. _Profits_ go to charity."

Harry didn't find a leather jacket in the charity shop, but Jimbo's friend said that his old one was far too small. Harry couldn't resist. He tried it on, looked at himself in the mirror, and pronounced himself cool. It also made him look bigger. He liked looking bigger. On the back of it was a colourful design featuring the name of a Heavy Metal band.

Snape turned up, and Harry sighed, "Saturday. I'll return Saturday. I don't expect Dumbledore'll expel me."

"Saturday then. I'll arrange discreet transport to Hogsmeade."

"You will never know how grateful I am to you, Severus."

"It never occurred to me that I'd enjoy your company."

Harry grinned, "Nor me. You gave me far more than I expected."

Snape said abruptly, "I do not want anyone to know we were together. Please do not forget."

"I will not forget."

It was to be Saturday. Harry mentioned it to his various friends, and took care not to buy too many groceries. He made a final accounting of what he owed Snape, at least in terms of money. He thought he owed him his life. Snape thought he owed Harry his freedom, and very likely his life. But Snape had a very deep-rooted cautious streak. He would never otherwise have survived his years as a double agent. That he had any particular interest in Harry Potter was to remain a secret.

***x***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 5:**_

It was Thursday, the fifth week of the school year, a little more than eight weeks since little Tom had died with a smile on his face. Hermann patted Harry on the shoulder, "You're doing well, Harry. Just keep to the training schedule, and I'll measure your progress when you come back next year."

"I might have actual muscles by that time!"

"You're not too bad now. It takes time, especially when you're in a high growth phase."

"I hope I'm growing! I'm way behind my classmates."

Harry emerged from the Sports Centre, and the two Aurors nudged each other and started to follow, not quite sure whether it was their boy. He looked different, less conspicuous frames to his glasses, a recent haircut, but mostly bigger and looking self-assured and carefree. They'd last seen him when he arrived at King's Cross station, on the point of collapse, and shepherded by friends.

Harry paused to inspect the show window of the tattooist. Wearing the jacket, and with an eyebrow ring... Hermione would never believe it. No tattoo. No need for him to be marked more than he already was. A piercing, though. Remove the decoration, and the hole would just grow over. He was tempted, feeling as if he needed to do something to mark that he was grown up now. He grinned as he thought of Mrs. Weasley's reaction. She'd box his ears, he suspected. He felt guilty when he thought of her. He had no excuse for not contacting her, only that he'd wanted to be far away from all thoughts of the wizarding world.

He picked up some milk and some fresh bread, stopped at a lolly shop, then a book shop, and continued his walk home. The Aurors followed. Harry entered his flat, put the milk in his fridge and placed his purchases on the table. There was a box of chocolates, a parting gift for Monica. They'd given each other a great deal of pleasure. He'd have to look for some nice wrapping paper and a card.

Outside, the Aurors consulted. Kingsley Shacklebolt said, "It's him, all right."

"He can fight, we know that."

"He probably won't fight, but he might run."

They used their Kelner, the device that called for backup, and explained the situation. Two at the back, two to go in, one to stay out front. "And be tactful! He's not a prisoner."

"If we're apparating him to Hogwarts, we'll have to stun him."

Potentially uncooperative apparation passengers were always stunned. Apparation was inherently dangerous, and taking an unwilling passenger could result in a messy end. Kingsley said, "We'll treat him gently. Only when we're ready to go, Sue takes him silently in the back, someone else only if she has no opportunity. I'm quite sure that he won't agree to be stunned."

Stewart Rankin said, "He scarcely knows me so I guess you'd better do the talking and take the lead."

Kingsley nodded, "Ready?"

In a standard manouevre, Kingsley and Stewart opened the door with magic and came in fast, one going to each side of the door. Harry spun around, wand instantly in his hand, threatening.

Kingsley spread his arms, "No need to get defensive, Harry. You're not under arrest."

"What, then?"

"Back to school."

Harry lowered his wand, "Highly paid Aurors, and you're acting as truant officers?"

"That's right. We're going to escort you back to school. You're underage and under the authority of Professor Dumbledore."

Harry looked at the other, "I've seen you before."

"My name is Stewart Rankin. I've helped protect you twice now."

Harry regarded them thoughtfully. They didn't have their wands drawn, though they both looked big, strong, and very competent. He tested, "I need to write two notes to friends that I'm leaving, pack, say good-bye to another friend, and then drop into the manager's office downstairs."

Kingsley asked, "Where does the friend live?"

"Monica. She's across the hall. Then, providing you don't try and manhandle me or anything, I'll come with you."

"Certainly. We will stay close, however."

"How are we to get there?"

Kingsley crossed his fingers, "I'll apparate you as a passenger."

Harry was undisturbed. Snape had done that. An unpleasant sensation, and he didn't like not being in control, but it was quick and convenient. He pocketed his wand, and nodded.

It didn't take long to write his notes and then pack. He hesitated afterward, regarding his trunk, and then shrugged, and minimised it. He didn't think the Aurors were going to worry about under-age magic now. That ridiculous trial when he'd driven off the Dementors had been purely to discredit him, and he knew now that the Ministry's detection of under-age magic was a lot less efficient than they wanted people to believe.

The Aurors were surprised at his action, not at its flouting of the rules, but because the minimisation of a trunk and all its contents was not simple magic. Not even all the Aurors could do it, and only the best became Aurors. They waited for him, trying to look unthreatening, relieved that it was going so well. If they'd tried to disarm him at the start, it would not have gone so well.

Monica. Harry picked up the box of chocolates, and on a sudden thought, looked out a back window, seeing the extra Aurors, and glanced back at Kingsley. Kingsley said quietly, "You have to return to your world, Harry. You are needed. It is not soon, but one day, it will be up to you."

Harry shrugged, "Personally, I don't believe in prophecies, and I think this one has been used to make an excuse for the incompetence or laziness of Aurors. It's your job to dispatch Voldemort, if he needs dispatching, not mine."

"Yes, Harry."

When a Prophecy was made, it happened. Kingsley fully expected that one day Voldemort would come after Harry, and would be killed in self defence. The fight at Hogwarts the previous year had been much discussed, Harry Potter's performance thoroughly analysed.

Harry said, "I'm going to see Monica shortly. If you want, you can station your Aurors behind her back window, but I do not want you inside with me."

Kingsley hesitated, but apparation was a difficult art to learn, and he did _not_ want Harry fighting. He asked merely, "What flat?"

"Number sixteen."

Kingsley nodded at Stewart, who disappeared outside as Harry went to empty the fridge and cupboards of disposable food.

Kingsley smiled in amusement as he saw Monica pull Harry into a passionate embrace. It seemed that the woman hadn't noticed him there. The door slammed shut in his face. It was the first instance of Harry using purposeful magic without a wand and he didn't notice, his senses and consciousness consumed by the woman. Kingsley assumed a foot had pushed it shut.

Ten minutes later, they came out together, Monica holding a box and a few plastic bags. She would take the excess food and drop the notes in the post for him. She glared at the big men who were taking her Harry away, but after all, he was only sixteen, and he should complete his education.

A parting kiss, and Harry whispered that there were a lot of other teenagers desperate for female company.

Monica giggled, "I'm glad you made the first move. I wouldn't have thought of it."

"Are you going to make the first move another time?"

"If I'm game." She touched him gently on the cheek, and said, "I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you." At least until he found someone else willing to share with him from time to time.

The manager's office to return the keys, and she asked, "Mr. Kemp not with you?"

"Already left. The flat's clean."

Sheila nodded. She inspected each flat, discreetly, when the tenants were not around. No-one was offended that way, and now she said calmly, "No need to inspect. I trust you."

The moment he left the office, Kingsley asked, "Where best to apparate from?"

"The garage below, probably. There's not likely to be anyone there." No magic with Muggle witnesses. It was basic.

The three other Aurors followed them down to the garage. Harry remarked, "An escort of five! Just a little excessive for a kid, don't you think, Kingsley?"

"You've been out of sight for three months. We're taking no risks." He held out an arm and said, "Come close, I hold you, and you have to make sure that you don't think of apparating, or travelling in any fashion, and especially don't think about the destination. Otherwise we could be in trouble."

"I'll think about onions." It was what Snape had told him. Think about something very far removed from what they were doing.

Kingsley held Harry securely, and said, "By the way, who is Mr. Kemp?"

Harry started to say something, and then sagged. It was Sue Vanstone, the only Auror who could perform the stun spell non-verbally. Stunning required some force of mind, far more than Paralysis, for instance.

Kingsley picked up the unconscious youth, and apparated to a point just outside the gates of Hogwarts, Harry in his arms. Stewart said, "Best disarm him. We don't want dangerous temper tantrums."

Kingsley hesitated, and then did as he said.

Harry pulled himself to his feet the moment he was revived, boiling with fury. He found his wand gone and demanded,_ "Why?"_

Kingsley said in a slow and reassuring voice, "Safety, that's all."

"I've been a passenger before. I know what to do."

Kingsley indicated the gates, and said, "I'll return your wand once in the presence of Professor Dumbledore."

Harry continued to stare at him, his fury undiminished. He _hated_ being helpless. There was a mutter of thunder in the air, and a stirring of a breeze around their feet.

Kingsley said quietly, "You're being silly, Harry. It was necessary."

Harry felt a desire to bore into his consciousness, to overcome him with his mind, to _dominate_ him. And more, he was quite sure he could do it. He stepped back, shaking his head, appalled at himself. Voldemort really was his brother. He'd never had any particular desire for power before.

He abruptly turned and started walking towards the gates of Hogwarts. He would not become a Dark Lord. He didn't want some other poor kid to be faced with the impossible task of defeating a full grown and very powerful wizard. His anger was gone, but he was upset and disturbed. Kingsley and Stewart flanked him, two Aurors behind him, and Vanstone had a word with the gate guard, that this was Harry Potter, and he was forbidden to leave the grounds of Hogwarts unless given permission by the headmaster.

Kingsley was relieved that the boy had backed down and assumed he'd soon get over his sulks.

***x***

Most of the students were at lessons, but a second year boy was late, and stared at the group in the corridor. They looked out of place in their Muggle clothing, though the Aurors' jackets bore the same badge as their uniform capes. He suddenly recognised Harry and called, "Did you get him, Harry? Is he dead yet?"

Harry replied, "Sorry, Pete. All I've been doing is having a holiday at the beach."

Peter looked downcast, "Oh," but then smiled, and offered, "I'm glad you're not dead."

Harry flashed him a grin, "So am I, Pete."

Harry felt a great deal better after that encounter. Of course he would not become a Dark Wizard himself, and certainly not a Dark Lord. He hated being singled out all the time. Hated everyone knowing who he was, and the idea that one day people might fear to speak his name, was laughable.

He had to wait outside Dumbledore's office as Kingsley was admitted, and explained where he'd been found. That there was a 'Mr. Kemp,' but they hadn't asked Harry who Kemp was. That the boy appeared to be healthy, and had not resisted returning to Hogwarts. That he'd confiscated his wand, and told him why. Dumbledore said quietly, "Give it to me."

He looked down at the wand, turning it in his fingers. The wand that he hoped would one day take the life of Voldemort. He said, "I want to know more about this Mr. Kemp. Bring Harry in, and interrogate him here. I will listen. Unless he's totally cooperative, I want you to become harsh, at which stage I will intervene. I need him to trust my judgement, and he has a distressingly independent streak."

Kingsley nodded, "If he's to develop the power to defeat the Dark Lord, it's only to be expected that he's not the meek and mild type."

"True."

Harry declined to answer Kingsley's increasingly harsh questioning, and when Kingsley said scathingly that he assumed that Kemp had been paying Harry to share his bed, said that if he was allowed a reasonable allowance from his own money, he would not have had to accept help from any man. Kingsley was thrown. Harry clarified, "It is my own money, yet the goblins allow me only enough to buy school uniform and text books. I have not even been allowed to have my eyes fixed. If one day I'm to face Voldemort, it would be a good idea to not be dependant on glasses." He glanced at Dumbledore, and said, "I am unsure why someone not my guardian is allowed to limit my money. As an Auror sworn to uphold the law, maybe you would look into that for me."

Dumbledore intervened, "That is quite irrelevant, Harry. You ran away from your relatives' care, and you ran away from your responsibilities." He looked at Harry very sadly, "You have disappointed me enormously, Harry."

Harry felt guilty, as intended, but then revolted, and looked Dumbledore in the eyes. Insincerity, and something more. What exactly was the old man doing? He said firmly, "I want you to authorise the withdrawal of enough money to repay Mr. Kemp what he loaned me, and I want you to ask Madam Pomfrey to organise for me to visit a specialist healer in order to have my eyes fixed. In return, I will stay at Hogwarts as you wish, and I will fight Voldemort if he attacks."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, "You seek to make deals with _me?"_

"I am asking for only what is reasonable and mine by right. You are asking something of me that is not at all reasonable." Harry suddenly knew exactly what the headmaster was doing. Mind-Magic. Illegal, and usually impractical, because, unless the wizard was exceptionally powerful, it required an incantation, and a wand pointing at the perpetrator's head. He finally knew why Albus Dumbledore had become such an influence in the world of wizardry. He cheated. He turned to Kingsley, "And I want my wand back."

Kingsley was frowning, "Professor Dumbledore has your wand."

Harry held out his hand to the headmaster. Dumbledore hesitated, wanting to make the boy beg.

Harry said quietly, "My wand, Professor."

Dumbledore handed over the wand, and Harry stroked it as if it was a living thing. A few golden sparks came from the end. Coolly, he asked, "Is there anything else, Professor?"

Dumbledore gritted, "See Professor McGonnagal, and she will give you your timetable."

"Certainly, Sir."

Snape snapped at his second years, "_Will_ you stop talking?"

Peter said, "Sorry, Sir. Do you think he was chasing You Know Who, Sir?"

"Potter is just a school boy, Mr. Winton, the same as you. Not even much bigger than you. He is not a super-hero."

Peter was crushed, but another said, "He had five Aurors with him, _five. _He would not have been alone."

Snape said, quietly threatening, "Another word uninvited, and it will be Detention." He was trying not to be too worried. It was only a couple of days before Harry was planning on returning anyway, and the Aurors were supposed to protect him. Surely they would not have hurt him. It was just that they might not realise that Harry was still fragile.

Harry's owl had found him, and while he studied the timetable that McGonnagal gave him, sat on his shoulder, still softly sounding her pleasure, and rubbing her head on his. Harry absent-mindedly caressed her again, before looking up at the Head Teacher. "Some of the subjects are wrong, Professor. I want to do Arithmancy and Practical Construction. Defence might be compulsory, but I don't want Duelling. I didn't even know Duelling was offered."

"It is not usually offered. The headmaster gave orders that you do it. There are seven other students accepted for the class, both sixth and seventh years."

"I don't need Potions, though I quite like it. And History. I'd like to do the exam for History, but I can do the study independently. Binns is totally useless, as Dumbledore should realise."

"_Professor_ Dumbledore, Harry."

"_Professor _Dumbledore should not be choosing my subjects. Only I should be doing that."

McGonnagal said, "If you wanted Arithmancy, you should have chosen it in third year. It's too late now."

"Please, Professor. I'm sure I can catch up."

"Why Arithmancy?"

"I want to be a builder. It's needed."

"Not an Auror? The headmaster said you needed the subjects required by an Auror."

"I have never said that I want to be an Auror."

McGonnagal gave him a piercing look, and then studied the timetable, finally concluding, "I will see what I can do. Arithmancy and Practical Construction. For now, report to the Hospital Wing for a routine examination."

Harry half grinned at her, "Five Aurors to escort me again?"

McGonnagal said coolly, "If necessary, Mr. Potter."

Harry shrugged, "I was planning on returning soon anyway. The Aurors were never necessary."

Poppy Pomfrey gave him an altogether different reception, exclaiming in pleasure when she saw him not only alive, but tanned, heavier than he'd been, and, she said, two inches taller. She measured and confirmed, "An inch and a half, anyway." She had no Nisco Monitor, and so did not detect that the LV reading was not merely a 'High Normal,' but was now showing abnormally high.

Harry glanced at the clock, "I'm late for lunch."

"Go, then." She smiled, "If it would not be unprofessional, I'd hug you."

Harry put on his best mournful look and said, "I'm an orphan. I need motherly hugs."

She cuffed him lightly on the side of his head, "Behave yourself. You won't fool an old nurse with your wiles."

Harry grinned, "I'm better now than I've been in a long time. It's a good feeling."

"No nightmares lately?"

"Not for ages."

"So what's happened?"

Harry shrugged, "No idea."

"Off you go, then. It's important you eat well. You're too thin."

Harry supposed he'd best send Hedwig off before lunch, but assured her that he was staying around for a while, and in any case, had no intention of sending her away again. He hesitated outside the doors of the Great Hall. He was late, and everyone would be already there. It was not something he could avoid, he supposed. He'd stick out like a sore thumb as well, when everyone else would be in uniform. Still, he had to face them sometime, and he was hungry.

Within the Great Hall, it was almost the sole topic of conversation, that Harry Potter had come back, that he said he hadn't killed You Know Who, that he wore a leather jacket, and it was cool! That he had an escort of five Aurors and was obviously under arrest, maybe for killing someone. That he'd been recovered from America, where he'd been making a living chasing renegade goblins, that he'd been in a race for a Hecatema. That he'd been in France, and had been trapped and used by a gang of Veela. The stories were becoming more far-fetched all the time.

Hermione turned and stared when Harry came in. He looked unfamiliar, not as fragile. But it was Harry. Straightaway he was surrounded by eager greetings, by questions, and by Colin, who said admiringly, "Where did you get the jacket?"

His brother said, "And how come you're allowed to wear it?"

Hermione then. The boys fell back as she stalked up to him. Harry said uneasily, "Hello, Hermione."

She slapped his face, and he recoiled. She spat, "You're a selfish, stupid _boy!_ I thought you were dead!"

Harry nodded, "I sort of... I tried to write..." He hung his head, "Sorry."

Abruptly, she hugged him, "I'm glad you're back." He patted her back, awkwardly. A girl's hug didn't feel quite the same any more. She shouldn't hug him. It was not like she was a sister or anything.

Snape quickly turned his grin into a sneer. It wouldn't do for anyone to think he was going soft.

Professor Landen complained, "Minerva wants me to take him into my Third Year Class. They pander to him too much, I think."

Snape turned to him in surprise, "They want him to do Arithmancy?"

"_He _wants to do Arithmancy. Also Practical Construction. Minerva says she's at her wits' end trying to fit the subjects he wants in his timetable, along with the subjects that the headmaster says he has to take."

Snape shrugged, "He's brighter than you'd expect. Maybe a couple of individual lessons to give him an introduction, and he'll catch up soon enough."

"Is he doing Potions? I heard he only scraped a Pass."

"A bit better than that. In any case, I have my orders. He's to do Potions. Maybe he won't be as sickly this year." He glanced over at Harry, now sitting and helping himself to lunch, "He looks healthier."

"Fancy the Boy Who Lived, running away."

"The Dark Lord is frightening enough to scare anyone away."

"Prophecy says that he will be able to defeat him."

Trimble put in, "My sister takes an interest in interpreting prophecies - what a particular wording actually means. She says that the wording strongly implies that they will _both _die. That he might win, but he will not survive the win."

Snape looked at him in surprise. It actually had happened like that. Harry had won, and had then nearly died because of the broken Magical Bond.

There was a commotion at the door, a bellow, "Harry!"

Harry quickly pushed himself away from the table before Hagrid lifted him up, swinging him around to the danger of everyone in the vicinity. Ron's drink was knocked over, and someone at the next table found her plate knocked from her grasp. Hagrid repeated, "Harry! They said you were dead."

Harry was still held aloft, laughing at his friend.

Blaise Zabini said to Draco, "There are rumours that the Dark Lord has left Britain for good. Maybe it's why Potter no longer looks like a sick and frightened mouse."

"Maybe. What _is_ that design on the back of his coat?"

McGonnagal bustled in and said severely, "Put him down please, Hagrid. Mr. Potter, you're to change into uniform before afternoon classes, and for now, follow Mr. Weasley's timetable. I expect to have yours prepared by dinner time."

"Thank you, Professor. Am I to do the subjects I've chosen?"

"As long as you put full effort into those that you need."

"Thank you, Professor McGonnagal."

Ron said, "Hurry up then, Harry. Have you got your trunk?"

Not long later, Harry was sitting at a desk, taking notes as if he'd never been away. It was a strange feeling. His robes were faded and shabby, the same ones he'd worn since third year. They were a little short, and he had no textbooks. He didn't know how he was going to arrange new robes or textbooks when he had no money left. He certainly couldn't go on borrowing from Snape.

***x***

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Stewart Rankin made their reports to the Chief Auror, Vance McKenzie. "We interviewed the manager of the block of flats, also the apparent girlfriend. There was nothing to indicate that this Alexander Kemp is anything other than a Muggle."

"What about the hint that it might have been an inappropriate relationship?"

"Nothing to confirm or deny. The woman said he told her that the man was a second cousin."

"So why would a Muggle stranger be willing to support him, even provide him with spending money?"

Kingsley replied coolly, "I can only think of that one reason. It's a bitter reflection on our world that the boy the newspapers have called a hero, prefers that life to the one we offered."

"And you say that he accused Dumbledore of unfairly limiting his money and preventing him from accessing a specialist healer for his eyes."

"Yes."

McKenzie said, "A full written report. I'll talk to Minister Fudge, I think." Maybe the old headmaster was getting too big for his boots. The evidence was undeniable that the Dursleys had neglected Potter. There were even reports of suspicious injuries in his earlier years at primary school. Something should have been done long before.

Fudge listened carefully. He didn't like Potter, but he _loathed_ Dumbledore.

It was unusual that Cornelius Fudge managed to have Dumbledore concede a point, but this time he did. Harry would have his eyes treated, his allowance increased, and an alternative to the Dursleys would be found. It was apparent that any extra safety conferred by the old Blood Magic was gone in any case, as no-one could now say it was his home.

***x***

Harry yawned as he packed up after the last lesson of the afternoon, and said regretfully, "To think I was running along a beach just this morning."

Ron said, somewhat accusingly, "You didn't really want to live as a Muggle, did you?"

"Not forever, but it was nice." His eyes were running thoughtfully over the girls who'd shared the lesson. All houses were combined for most subjects in Senior years, and there were some he didn't know well. He whispered, "Has Clare got a boyfriend?"

Ron grinned at him, "Ask Hermione. She's friendly with her."

Lavender Brown and Hermione joined them, and Lavender said, "You say he's left Britain, Harry?"

"I don't know what's happened to him. Just that he used to make my head hurt sometimes, and now he doesn't. Maybe he's gone to America or something. Or maybe it's just that he's leaving me alone for a change. Or someone killed him."

"But nobody but you _can_ kill him. Everyone knows that."

"He's just a man. Believing in prophecy is superstition."

Hermione said, "There's such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy. If no-one else tries to defeat him, then no-one _will_ defeat him."

Harry nodded, "For years they've just been waiting for me to grow up and deal with the problem. But I'm not going to. I'm going to be a builder." It was what he'd been saying all day when questioned. He didn't know what had happened to Voldemort. That he'd simply felt like having a holiday like everyone else had, and the beach was great. That if he'd only been left a couple more days, he might have been brave enough to have his eyebrow pierced, and maybe a tattoo.

Neville asked Hermione, very quietly, "What do you think?"

"I think he's won. I think Voldemort's dead, and Harry doesn't want to be seen as a hero for killing him. Or a criminal. The only legal defence for killing is if the other one is in the act of harming you."

"Better that we just let him forget, don't you think?"

Hermione agreed. "It always hurt him, whether he was winning or losing. And if he's treated right, he won't leave us again."

It was the general consensus, and to Harry's relief, questions after that were only about the beach, and whether he was really thinking of getting a tattoo.

Minerva McGonnagal had also concluded that if they wanted to keep Harry around, he'd best be treated with some consideration. She had him report to her office again after dinner, and presented him with a timetable, "Arithmancy with the Third Years, go and see Professor Landen to arrange a special introductory lesson, new textbooks have been ordered, payment to be deducted direct from your account, the same as your school fees. Defence is to be with Seventh Year, to enable you to commence Practical Construction. If you find the workload too great, you can drop Arithmancy or Construction. You are not permitted to drop Potions, Defence or Duelling."

Harry asked, "History?"

"Professor Binns was surprised that you think you can pass an exam without attending lectures, but has nevertheless provided a summary of what will be covered, along with a list of recommended supplementary reading."

She glanced at her notes. "Your allowance. Arrangements have been made for you to be provided with your annual allowance. Come to me tomorrow, this time, and I should have it for you."

"Am I to be permitted to go on Hogsmeade visits?"

"I'm afraid not. It is a question of your safety."

"It will be like last year then. I won't be able to buy new robes, and I won't be able even to get myself a haircut."

McGonnagal glanced at the frayed edge of his collar, "I'll see what can be done."

Harry smiled at her, "Thank you for going to so much trouble, Professor."

McGonnagal nodded, "Don't go away again. No-one can run from destiny."

"I had a nice time trying!"

McGonnagal nearly laughed, but instead said, "You have Duelling tomorrow. There has been a lot of money spent to make a special Duelling room, with animated targets. Very professional. It was a donation. Everyone wants you to succeed."

"Yes, Professor McGonnagal."

***x***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 6:**_

Any temptation that Harry might have had to admit that Voldemort was already dead, vanished the moment he saw the very large Duelling Room, modified from three unused classrooms. Areas could be partitioned off from each other, with solid but transparent walls.

Ron wasn't one of the selected participants in the class, and it was a seventh year Gryffindor, Charlie Greaves, who showed Harry the targets, currently standing immobile, most of them slightly chipped. "They're toughened with magic so they can't be destroyed, and they can be set for different skill levels. They shoot back, but the only spells that do more than make a coloured mark, are the disarming spell and the trip jinx."

"Is it always a double period?"

"Always. It's tremendous fun. Serious training, of course, but tremendous fun all the same."

"I haven't done any duelling for ages, just a bit last year with Hermione and Ron's DA." The Duelling club had been started very early the previous year, but Harry had seldom been healthy enough to take part.

Auror Mick Larkin, currently Professor Larkin, entered quietly and stopped, watching. The famous Harry Potter, dressed in worn clothes, and as much as eight inches shorter than Charlie Greaves. Mick was fit, strong, and arrogant. Aurors had a strong tendency to arrogance. They were the elite, and knew it very well. Mick had a grim cast to his countenance. Aurors saw some awful things.

Harry commented, "A woman target? I don't think I could ever attack a woman."

"Imagine her as the notorious Bellatrix Lestrange. I'm sure you could attack that one!"

Harry shrugged, "Well, no-one's told me I have to account for any more than one man. I'll ask for only the male targets, I think."

Charlie grinned, "Mick's tough. He won't let you get away with that."

Mick chimed in, "No, I won't. If a woman is a criminal, she has to be apprehended."

Harry turned and there was a mutual assessment. Mick changed his mind about Harry being unpromising material for a fighter. There was a maturity about his expression that belied the slight build of the boy. He nodded, "I'm Mick Larkin. You call me Mick. We use first names in this class."

Harry smiled, but warily, "Mick."

More of the students were assembling, Charlie and Bruce, who were seventh year Gryffindors, three Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, a seventh year Ravenclaw girl called Tracey Bowen, and Chris, who was a Hufflepuff. Tracey was the only girl. Harry knew them all, though few of them well. There was a strong tendency for Hogwarts students to socialise only within their own houses, though Harry had begun to think it a little silly.

Mick said, "Everybody here? Pair up and warm up. Against each other, and only use the disarming spell, trip jinx, and shield spells. Nothing else. Tracey against Harry, please."

They paired up, and Harry waited for a signal to commence. Tracey sent her first spell, and he dodged and retaliated. Tracey's wand came to his hand.

Mick nodded. "Return Tracey's wand, and put away your own, Harry. On the count of three, Tracey starts with wand in hand."

Harry tensed, not surprised this time when he was attacked on the count of two. Again he twisted away from it, but this time took two tries before he held Tracey's wand.

The instructor didn't commend him, only saying, "No more disarming spells from you, Harry. Tracey, continue trying to disarm him. Harry can dodge or shield. The only shield allowed is the Karliah." The Karliah was quite strong, but lasted just four seconds. Harry didn't object. He was beginning to enjoy this challenge.

Mick strolled around the other pairs, with an occasional commendation or criticism. Tracey finally had Harry's wand spinning out of his hand, he dove for it, and turned it back on her. She reminded him sweetly, "Only shield, Harry. You're not allowed to hurt me."

Harry laughed, "Seems a touch unfair."

Tracey blatantly flirted, "Why? Do you _want _to hurt me?"

He stared at her, suddenly excited. Of course he didn't want to hurt her!

Another ten minutes, and Mick clapped his hands. "Enough! Vayden, Charlie, Bruce and Draco. Against the targets. Any spells you choose. Harry, watch carefully."

Four lanes, each separated by a barrier to avoid the danger of deflected spells. Mick joined Harry and explained, "Number two intensity and speed. Four hits and they're out, presumed dead."

Harry watched, very interested, and commented, "Vayden's good." Vayden was one of the Slytherins, and had just demonstrated a Slashing Curse, though it had only marked the target.

Mick explained, "The targets don't die, which means that the contest goes on until the trainee is defeated."

"Draco's target is covered with marks."

"They're primed to colour wherever they're hit. I'll raise the intensity a little, I think."

Spells came faster, and the first of the trainees retired, defeated by the targets. Harry was grinning. This was fun. Tracey edged to his side and murmured, "The Boy Who Lived. Does the Boy Who Lived like sex?"

Harry answered, very quietly, "The Boy Who Lived adores sex. And the Boy Who Lived can conjure bed and bedding." Snape had taught him a few things those past few weeks.

"Meet me here at ten this evening?"

With a sudden caution, Harry turned to her frankly, and queried, "Do you mean that?"

Tracey put her head on the side a little, and asked, "Are you trying to look into my mind?"

"Sorry. I just didn't want you presenting my body to my enemies."

Tracey giggled, "It's your live body I'm interested in."

"You're very welcome. Tonight at ten."

She nudged him. The lanes were empty, each of the trainees with coloured marks on their bodies, slowly fading. Mick said, "Tracey, Harry, Chris and Kevin."

This was wonderful. He was having fun, duelling with no chance of being hurt, and thanks to the unusual forwardness of Tracey, he had a hot date for the evening. The spells came at him. Harry dodged, parried, and returned fire. The other three students were defeated one by one, and joined the audience.

Mick watched Harry closely, and raised the intensity. It was his speed, he thought, more than anything, though some of his spells were creative and quite powerful. He raised the intensity again.

Charlie nudged Tracey, and asked, "Well?"

Tracey grinned, "Look at him fight. He doesn't look much, but he can fight!" The target was crisscrossed with colours, while Harry was yet to be marked. He wasn't using shields as much as relying on his speed.

Mick frowned, concentrating, looking for weaknesses. The problem was that Voldemort was not only legendary in his duelling prowess, it was that he was not a believer in a fair fight. However he did it, Harry would not find it easy to defeat the greatest Dark Lord of all time.

Mick made the target advance. Tracey was surprised, "I didn't know they could do that."

Mick didn't answer, waiting, watching. Harry fell back a little and now slashed across at knee level. Charlie commented, "That would have taken a man's legs off."

Harry dodged behind the target, and as it wheeled, quite slowly, hit it with spells of more and more power. Charlie said, "You'd best stop him, Mick, if you don't want the target in pieces."

"I need to see what he can do."

Tracey said quietly, "He's forgotten it's pretend, I think."

Harry was seeing the target through a red haze of exhaustion. It would take months yet before he was fully fit. He was finally disarmed, but rolled under the follow-up spells, and then attacked physically from behind, managing to retrieve his own wand, but unable to wrench the wand from the hand of the target. The target turned on him quite slowly, and crowded him against the barrier. Harry was no match for its ponderous strength, but suddenly lifted his arms, and slid out of his jacket and shirt, free again. He made a hole in the floor, which caused the target to fall, then put his wand to its head, muttering _Crescendo._ The head shattered. Mick switched off the action, and went to Harry, who still had his wand aimed at the target, unsure whether it was finished or not.

Mick said, "Very well done, Harry. Class is over."

Harry looked at him, bewildered, staggered and reached for the wall. Mick frowned, taking in his poor physical condition. Ribs, collar bones, even the bones of spine were clearly visible. He should have realised earlier. Yet the boy had been working at a very intense pace for the past forty minutes.

Harry looked at the floor, breathing slowly and carefully. He would _not_ faint, not in front of Tracey. It was Charlie who went to him and helped him back into shirt and jacket, making sure he didn't fall. The Gryffindor boys knew perfectly well that Harry was not strong.

Mick announced, "Half past six in the morning at the Quidditch Pitch, Harry. Anyone else who wants. Physical training, starting with a run."

Charlie had an arm around Harry now and said firmly, "We'll be there."

Harry was beginning to realise he'd been quite silly. It was only a game, the targets not supposed to be defeated. He looked up suddenly, and grinned at Mick, "Great game!" It didn't matter any more if he wore himself out. Voldemort was not going to attack him. Not ever again.

Mick nodded, "Next time, don't make holes in the floor or anywhere else, and don't damage the target. I'll make it so the targets take a specified number of hits, and then glow white, and stop."

"Sorry, Sir. I forgot where I was." Mick grunted.

Mick had finished his teaching for the day, and returned to London to report to McKenzie. "Very fast, powerful enough to shatter the head of a target. And he doesn't give up. He just keeps fighting. Scored amazingly on the Auror Training at Level 8."

"Could he beat you?"

"I think he can probably beat you and me together. He must have had some training we don't know about. Another thing, he's not healthy, quite unfit. He was exhausted afterward, so I've decided to start him on a physical training regimen."

"What did he say to that?"

"He didn't object."

"Did he enjoy the class?"

Mick grinned, "Loved it! He's a natural fighter. I don't think he'll clear out."

"As I recall, there are no physical training facilities at Hogwarts."

"Maybe there should be. We're depending on him."

***x***

Harry had known that Practical Construction was supposed to be one of the easier options for NEWTs, but hadn't expected it to be quite so slow. Eight students, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle from Slytherin, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, of Gryffindor, and three boys from Hufflepuff. At least it wasn't physically demanding. At the moment, Vincent Crabbe was painfully trying to raise a plank without dropping it, and then attach it to the wall in progress. Harry looked back at his brand new textbook, provided that morning, and flicked through the pages. It was too basic.

Goyle dropped his plank, and the teacher said, "Mr. Potter, stop looking contemptuous and show us how it's done."

To Harry's surprise, it was a little harder than it looked - not to lift the plank, but to lift it evenly, and have it exactly horizontal before attaching it in place. He managed it, and without any real trouble.

Professor McMillan asked, "Just why do you want to do this class, Mr. Potter?"

"I want to be a builder, Sir."

McMillan asked sceptically, "Since when?"

"I only made up my mind a few days ago. I've been watching a building go up, and the foreman explained things to me. I found it fascinating."

McMillan said, puzzled, "The foreman?"

"It was a Muggle building."

"I see. And you really want to be a builder?"

"Yes, Sir."

McMillan hadn't had anyone who actually _wanted_ to build things in years. This was usually just a class for the duffers, an easy option for NEWTs. It would be quite nice to actually have someone interested. He'd best not lose him, though he knew that the headmaster would be only too happy for Harry to drop it. Harry Potter was supposed to be training as a warrior, not a labourer. He instructed, "Continue looking through the textbook for now. I may need to give you slightly different topics to the others."

"Yes, Sir."

In the evening, Harry and Tracey met, talked for a little while, then started modifying their surroundings for their purpose. They used the far duelling lane, locked the transparent barrier in place, made it opaque, and used a Silencing Shield. There was a conjured bed.

Afterwards Tracey giggled, "I wanted to boast I was the first for Harry Potter, but I think you might have had some practice."

"I told you. I had a _wonderful _summer."

"Do it again soon?"

Harry kissed her again, and said fervently, "I can't imagine anything better!" So what if she'd only done it because he was Harry Potter? Motives scarcely mattered when they'd both enjoyed themselves so much.

Ron was still awake when Harry slipped in to the dormitory, and demanded, "Where were you?"

Harry yawned, "So tired. And I'm supposed to be up early for physical training. I got the idea Mick Larkin was not impressed with my fitness."

"Not expecting nightmares?"

"Of course not. I told you, I think he's gone out of range."

"There are other nightmares one can have."

"I suppose."

Harry had forgotten his dreams the previous night, but Ron had heard him moaning, and when he'd checked, there were tears on his face.

Neville, from his bed, asked, "Was it Tracey?" Harry turned to him in surprise, and Neville explained, "I heard Charlie say something to Bruce."

Harry said enthusiastically, "She's wonderful. She's quick-witted and unsentimental, and she's beautiful!"

Ron was surprised, "Beautiful?" Tracey was tall and athletic, but her face was strong, in a way not usually considered beautiful.

Harry gave a sheepish grin, "Maybe it doesn't show so much in uniform."

Ron was stunned, "I thought you were just talking!"

"We're sixteen, Ron. Time to do more than talk."

Neville chuckled, "Good, isn't it? What about you, Ron? Tried it yet?"

Ron said airily, "Of course. Just didn't consider boasting, that's all."

Dean sat up straight in bed, "You said she wouldn't!"

Seamus habitually slept with his curtains drawn, and now they heard a sleepy murmur, "Dry up, you lot. I don't believe any of you."

Harry spoke quietly, "You still want to come with me in the morning for PT, Ron?"

"Of course. You need looking after."

"You don't know how grateful I am that you looked after me when I needed it, but there's no need for it now."

Ron said carefully, "Now that he seems to have gone out of range."

Harry replied simply, "Yes."

"I'll come with you in the morning."

But in the morning, when Harry tried to wake him, Ron grumbled, turned over, and resumed his gentle snore. On the other hand, Neville rose, and quietly put on some exercise shorts.

***x***

It was Saturday, but quite a few of the teachers tended to gather in either of the two large staff-rooms. McMillan commented to Larkin, "We heard you yelling at Potter from the castle, Mick! What was it all about?"

Mick stormed, "He's a quitter! I wouldn't have thought it yesterday, but he stopped running far too soon, and then had the audacity to tell me it was counterproductive to work until exhaustion."

Snape asked, "Is that how they do it in Auror Training, Larkin?"

"If one can't hack it in training, one gets dumped. Pity we can't dump Potter. Just a bloody coward, I reckon."

"I heard he made a record score in duelling, yesterday."

"Against dummies! Seems to me he just doesn't have the stomach for a real fight."

"So what did he say when you told him he was a quitter and a coward?"

"Just looked a bit surprised. It was young Neville Longbottom got all fired up, and said to lay off him. Then Charlie Greaves said the same."

Snape nodded, "They're very protective. I noticed it last year, when he was sick all the time."

Mick ran a hand through his hair, and said, frustrated, "It'll be this year. Voldemort can't afford to wait until he comes into his full power. The boy has to be ready!"

"So how long do you think he has?"

Mick shook his head, "Who knows? There are more reports of crimes committed in Germany, rumours that he's travelling, probably recruiting. We know he's on the move, but we haven't had any firm intelligence for months."

"Are you going to continue training him?"

"If he'll allow me. I told him same time every morning, without fail, weekend or not. I'll see if he turns up tomorrow."

Snape hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry, but asked Mick the following day, "Well?" He wasn't the only one interested, and all those present looked up.

Mick said, "He was there, and did a bit better. He tells me that he's been working at getting stronger for weeks, but the gymnasium coach said that small increments are better in the long run, especially when one's trying to recover from an illness."

McMillan said, "That implies he was ill in the summer."

"I asked, but he evaded answering, only that he was at the beach for several weeks."

Snape asked, "So there's still no hint who was his protector?"

"Stew told me that there was never any protector. They've stopped looking for one."

"There's a nasty rumour going around..."

Mick declared, "Unfounded. And I was wrong. He's not a coward. When I think about it, he didn't seem the slightest bit afraid of me when I lost my temper."

"How often does he have Duelling?"

"Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Defence Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, and that's with the seventh years. We can only do our best to prepare him."

McMillan said mildly, "I've ordered him some books on architecture. He says he's going to be a builder. He's very bright. I think he'll make an excellent builder."

"If he survives!"

Monday morning at breakfast, Hermione handed her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ to Harry. His own picture on the front page, with the news that after spending the summer at a secret location, he had returned to Hogwarts to complete his more conventional education. There was the rhetorical question, 'And what was he doing?'The paper went on to give details of an entirely mythical intensive training programme in duelling and advanced spellwork. There was praise for him, that he was showing courage and dedication in facing up to his destiny. 'The Child of Destiny, Child of Light. This reporter has no difficulty in believing that our Harry Potter, the brave boy orphaned by You Know Who, will be the one to defeat evil in our time.'

Ron said casually, "They've given you good press."

"Fudge's doing, no doubt. I guess he doesn't want anyone to know that the _'Child of Destiny'_ was escorted back to school by five Aurors."

Colin Creevey said reproachfully, "But you wanted to come back, didn't you, Harry?"

"Yes, Colin. I did intend to come back, and it's not likely I'll leave again, this year or next."

Hermione said, "You're always the _Child_ of Destiny or the _Child_ of Light. Do you think one day they might call you a young man?"

Harry grinned, "It'd be a nice change. I'm sixteen, after all."

Colin said, "Chosen One sometimes."

"Yeah, and Boy-who-lived. They give me labels and forget that I'm a perfectly normal person."

"Who just wanted a holiday at the beach like everybody else has," said Hermione.

"Yes."

Harry's first period on a Monday was Defence with the seventh years. He had no trouble with Defence, and Professor Trimble indicated that he was not expected to hand in assignments from the missed weeks of school, only that he should make sure and make himself familiar with the subjects covered. So far, all the teachers had done that, and Harry had begun to think it was orders from above. After all, he was going to have enough trouble attempting to do three extra subjects, including History, without make-up work. That he'd managed to pass all his subjects from last year was an encouragement. In Potions and Defence, he'd even managed an E. Divination an O, as he'd thought, but that subject had always been a joke.

But the second period was Arithmancy, his first class in the subject, though Landen had given him a perfunctory 'introduction' in his office the previous Friday. He was trying hard to follow Landen's lecture, but was having real difficulty. He scarcely knew the others doing this class, most of them Ravenclaw, with a smattering from other houses. The study of number properties was not a popular subject. Stubbornly, he studied the problems set out on the blackboard, copied them down, and then went back to Chapter 1 of the textbook. He'd get there. Maybe Hermione would help.

Landen concluded, "Hand in your completed work by tomorrow. No exceptions. Mr. Potter, you asked for this class, so prove you can do it."

"Yes, Professor Landen."

Landen was not the only teacher who appeared to think his disappearance over the summer was somehow a personal affront. As they packed up, one of the girls said, "If you want, come to Sitting Room 1 straight after afternoon lessons, and I'll help." The place nominated was one of two large sitting rooms that anyone could use.

Harry asked, "Marie, isn't it?"

The girl nodded, "Marie Bowen. I'm Tracey's sister. And I think it's perfectly understandable if you got frightened. It's not fair the way they treat you."

Harry said gratefully, "Thank you, Marie." He didn't deny being frightened.

Harry hadn't had a chance to speak to Snape without seeking him out, but the rest of the morning was devoted to Potions, and afterwards, Snape said silkily, "A few minutes of your time, please, Mr. Potter. We'll discuss what you need to catch up on."

"Yes, Sir."

Neville and Hermione hovered at the door, and Snape asked Harry, "Any worries?"

"None, Sir." He lowered his voice, "They gave me a chance to send notes to a couple of friends, and say goodbye to Monica. Return the keys, and so on. Quite civilised, though it was clear they were not giving me the option."

"I hear they're treating you very carefully."

"Mostly. My allowance has been increased, and McGonnagal has arranged for a seamstress to visit and take measurements, so that I can order some new clothes. New textbooks supplied Friday morning, and I now have an account to order new books. I could even repay Mr. Kemp, but only if I provide his name and address."

"No."

"I thought not. It'll have to wait until I'm of age."

Snape said calmly, "There are some nasty rumours about your relationship with a presumed Muggle."

"Kingsley suggested that, but I thought it was only to make me talk more freely."

"Does it bother you?"

"Not particularly. It seems to me that what other people think is not all that important. Most just assume I got scared."

Snape smiled and said casually, "I'm surprised you had a haircut. I thought you might let your hair grow long now, as a declaration that you are now a man."

Harry was confused, "Long hair says I'm a man?"

"A Pure-blood tradition, though not as rigorously observed as it used to be a generation or two ago. Most young men look for a marker before allowing their hair to grow long. Maybe marriage, maybe qualification in one's profession, maybe winning a fight."

"Draco's father is dead. His hair is longer than it was."

"He's the head of his family."

Harry was thoughtful, and Snape said abruptly, "Go to lunch. And make sure and organise sweetened milk drinks or something at morning and afternoon breaks. You're still too thin."

Harry smiled, "Yes, Severus." He started to go, and then turned back, grinning, "I did feel a need to do something to mark the transition. I was thinking in terms of tattoos, or something similar, but growing my hair sounds a lot less painful."

Snape shook his head, "A tattoo?"

Harry laughed, "I imagined one on a muscular forearm, but somehow my own forearm didn't fit the image."

Snape said feelingly, "Thank goodness. A tattoo is a sign of immaturity, not the transition into manhood."

Harry said carelessly, "No need for Voldemort to be discovered for a long time. Duelling lessons will probably stop the moment he's found."

"If you can tolerate the restrictions on your movements?"

"I can." Besides, he was sure he could escape if he wanted to.

***x***

He quite quickly found his feet in Arithmancy with the help of the Ravenclaw girls, who liked him, continued to have a wonderful time in duelling, and came to an understanding with Mick when it came to PT. Mick's consultation with the Ministry Healer helped with that. By the second week, he had an assortment of new clothes, uniform robes, but also casual wear, mostly in Muggle style. He'd optimistically requested that they be a little too long, but by the time a month had passed, they were no longer too long. He was growing fast now.

Harry worked very hard in those weeks. He caught up with all subjects, and began a reading programme for history. With his greater than normal workload, he mostly chose to do the minimum required, rather than invest time he couldn't afford in order to gain a good mark. A passing grade was quite sufficient, he felt. Construction was great. McMillan had abandoned the usual curriculum, and instead the whole class was working on a project, the transformation of a disused greenhouse into a gymnasium. Dumbledore thought that he'd best pander to his interests in order to have him be ready when the time came.

Dumbledore was quite happy with his 'Child of Destiny' now, whom he was apt to regard, purely and solely, as his own tool. He'd put out of his mind the annoyance he'd felt when Harry had answered back when he'd just returned. The boy had probably simply been smarting from losing his unknown 'friend.' He'd obviously realised by now that that had been an unhealthy lifestyle, that his wise old headmaster knew best. He'd had a few talks with him since, taking care not to arouse any thoughts of rebellion by probing. Let his disgraceful interlude with the Muggle pederast be forgotten. Or almost forgotten. And it had to have been a Muggle. There were no wizard families by the name of Kemp.

Harry thought he was happy. He still had dreams, which left him sad and confused, but he was never able to remember them when he woke. If there was a hole left in him, he was working around it.

***x***


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 7**_**:**

Thursday morning at the beginning of November, there was a note delivered for him at breakfast. He sat at the Ravenclaw table, Tracey beside him, Hermione on the other side, next to Clare. On his other side, sat two of the third years who did Arithmancy with him, Marie and Nestia. They were very proud of sharing a class with Harry Potter, sometimes even acting a little possessive.

Tracy nodded at the note that Harry had opened, and asked, "Anything?"

Harry answered briefly, "Routine." He was self-conscious admitting to anyone that he was required to report for routine physical examinations every fortnight. He didn't like it, but obedience was prudent. He had no particular urge to assert himself and Dumbledore could make his life very difficult if he chose.

Tracey assumed that the note had something to do with his special training. Everyone knew what he was being groomed for. Marie poured him another chocolate drink and passed it to him, "Tracey says you're still far too thin."

Harry's reply was defensive. "Only because I'm growing. I can't get tall and fat at the same time."

Tracey laughed and patted him on the arm, "I don't think you'll ever be fat!"

Harry drained his drink, thanked Marie, and said, "See you later." He had a free period first thing on Thursday, then Arithmancy, and in the afternoon, a double period of Defence. Tracey was in that class.

Professor Dumbledore was with Madam Pomfrey when he reported. There were also two strange men, and he hesitated, looking at them questioningly. Dumbledore called him over, and said benignly, "Nothing to worry about, my boy. Healer Braithwaite is the Ministry Healer, and Healer Vanden is an eye specialist."

"An eye specialist!" Harry had almost forgotten about his desire to do without glasses. They were so much a part of him.

Madam Pomfrey said, "Usual measurements, then Healer Braithwaite is to have a thorough look at you, then the eye examination."

Harry didn't like having four pairs of assessing eyes on his half-naked body, but put up with it. It was a small thing after all, and the nurse cheered him by telling him there was a further increase in height and weight.

Healer Braithwaite then, running a finger down ribs, and feeling the muscles of arms. He said jovially to Dumbledore, "He's got more muscle than he looks. He'd never be accepted into Auror training, though. Not as he is."

Harry didn't comment, but Dumbledore said, "He's coming along."

Braithwaite asked, "No attacks of head pain lately, Albus?"

Harry thought, annoyed, that it was as if he wasn't even there, except as an object. Maybe like a pig being fattened for slaughter. He didn't show his irritation. Albus asked, "Harry?"

Harry answered, "Not for a long time."

"Or dreams about what he's doing?"

"No, Sir."

The eye examination, and Vanden concluded, "Quite easily corrected. If you'd had proper care, it would have been done at a much younger age."

"How long will it take, Healer Vanden?"

"About twenty minutes. Careful spells, with intervals of assessment between. Recovery time six days if all goes well."

"What do you mean, recovery time?"

"As you know, any modification of the body, especially when it involves genetic inheritance, is risky by its nature. After eye modification, a patient must be kept in a very relaxed state, his eyes covered, for six days."

Harry said slowly, "I'd be totally helpless for six days."

"Possibly longer. No need to worry, of course. You'd be looked after."

Harry said flatly, "No."

Dumbledore said calmly, "It is decided, Harry. Exactly what you said, you can't afford to be rendered helpless simply by someone removing your glasses."

"I can't afford to be rendered helpless by being blinded or sedated, either. I have enemies."

Dumbledore said, very gently, bringing his Mind-Magic into play, "You must. It has been decided. Trust me, Harry, to know what is best for you."

Mind-Magic was easy to overcome if one was wary, and Harry thought this issue important. He rose, and his voice was final, "I do not agree. Do not attempt to compel me."

Dumbledore glared, but Vanden stated, "Your cooperation is needed in order to make the correct sequence of spells. The correction would be far too risky to attempt without your own input and feedback."

Harry smiled at him, "One day, I would be very grateful for your help, Healer Vanden. Just not now. Even without the Dark Lord close, there are students who would take the opportunity to harm me. I simply cannot risk it at this stage."

Dumbledore said caustically, "And if you're in a battle, and break or lose your glasses?"

"Some of the first spells I learned were ones to keep my glasses in place, and intact. They've served me well."

Dumbledore said shortly, "You're dismissed."

Harry said, "I'm very grateful to you, Professor Dumbledore, for arranging this opportunity. And to Healer Vanden, for coming." He exerted his own mind, not quite realising what he was doing, "Please don't be angry with me, Sir. Just that I cannot stand the thought of being helpless."

Dumbledore lost his anger, patted him on the head, "Very well, my boy. I understand. Off you go, now."

The Ministry Healer, Braithwaite, said to Dumbledore, "He obviously looks up to you very much, Albus."

Dumbledore asked, "Can it really not be done if he doesn't cooperate?"

"An attempt could be made, but it would be as likely to leave him worse off as better off."

"Well, we can't risk that, of course."

Braithwaite said, "I was surprised to see him still so underweight. From what Mick's been saying, I thought he was quite quickly improving."

Madam Pomfrey said, "He's grown taller by nearly an inch in a month. It seems all his illness last year was holding him back, and now he's making up for it."

Braithwaite nodded, "You could be right. Let's hope it continues. The Chief Auror is convinced that it can't be long."

The following Monday afternoon, Professor Dumbledore met Cornelius Fudge and Vance McKenzie - the Minister for Magic and the Chief Auror. McKenzie asked, "Do the students know they're to have an audience?"

"Only Professor Larkin knows. We'll probably find them already working."

Fudge said, "And you say he seems perfectly content to be at Hogwarts?"

"He has made no attempt to leave, and he's obedient and respectful. I have had no trouble with him."

"But he refuses to have his eyes fixed."

"He has to be convinced that it's more dangerous not to have them fixed than it is to spend a few days in bed."

"By having him fight without them?"

"Yes."

In the Duelling Room, four pairs of duellists had no attention to spare for anything outside of each enclosed space. Mick said, "There are five of these wanting to be Aurors, including Tracey Bowen."

McKenzie commented, "We need more women."

"She's the fastest aside from Harry, and has a talent for non-verbal offensive spells. On the other hand, I sometimes think she lacks aggression."

"Others?"

"Vayden Carlyle and Charlie Greaves are the best. Bruce and Chris may not meet the standards."

"Harry? Will Harry meet the standards?"

"I've never seen a duellist like him, but he maintains he has no interest in being an Auror. He asserts that duelling's fun only when no-one gets hurt."

Fudge sighed, "So he really is a coward, like they say."

"I wouldn't say that. And in any case, if You Know Who attacks him, I'm quite sure he will fight. It would be sure and probably painful death not to."

Two of the duels came to an end with the wand in the hand of the victor, and both contestants with marks of colour on their bodies. Mick said, "Harry's at the end, matched against Vayden. Vayden is permitted the Tripping Spell, the Disarming Spell, and the Marking Spell. That's the one that makes the colours, and represents damaging spells. Harry is permitted only to shield."

McKenzie laughed, "So how can he win?"

Mick grinned, "I'm waiting to see."

Harry was also wondering how he could expect to win. Meantime he avoided spells, shielded, and reflected that at least he was getting a good workout. The human duels were to allow them to practise their speed more than anything. Harry pointed his wand at the ceiling, and a blinding white glow spread over the whole area. A shield made pervasive, if weak. Vayden hesitated, confused, but as Harry raced toward him in at attempt to disarm him manually, he recovered himself, and it was Harry who lost his wand.

McKenzie raised his eyebrows at Mick, who shrugged, "He doesn't always win."

The final pair finished, and the students looked to Mick expectantly. Mick said casually, "Not bad, most of you. Vayden, you should have been far quicker to disarm Harry. Harry, where was your creative thinking?"

Harry asked, "Did you have anything to suggest?"

"What would you have done in a survival situation?"

Harry glanced at McKenzie, and said casually, "Run away, of course. What else does one do if the odds are stacked against you?"

Mick stared at him incredulously, and laughed, along with most of the students.

McKenzie didn't smile, and neither did Dumbledore or Fudge. Harry Potter was expected to not only fight, but win against impossible odds, with only the prophecy as encouragement, the prophecy that said he _would_ have the power to defeat the Dark Lord.

McKenzie suggested, "Against the targets?"

Mick asked, "Who do you want to see?"

"Each of those wanting to be Aurors, also Harry, but last and on his own."

Mick said, "Tracey, Vayden and Chris. Against the targets, Level 4."

Draco drifted over to Harry as the assigned students took position, and murmured, "You're on display."

"Not only me."

"Do you know who the tough looking one is?"

"An Auror would be my guess. I've never met him."

Draco grinned, "How do you tell an Auror?"

"They're all big, they look as if mere mortals are beneath contempt, and they can't be trusted."

Draco laughed, "You don't think much of them."

"If they were any good, Voldemort would never have had the chance to become powerful, your father would probably still be alive, and I'd be just another sixth year."

"True."

They watched the duelling in progress, and then Draco asked, "Are you going to show off for them?"

Harry shrugged, "I like duelling."

"Do you imagine the target as the Dark Lord?"

"No." Harry suddenly grinned at Draco, and said, very quietly, "If I do well enough, I might tell them that to get fit, it's absolutely imperative that there be a heated swimming pool."

Draco replied casually, but in a slightly louder tone, "It's been generations since much money has been spent on this school. Some things are long overdue."

Cornelius Fudge gave them a puzzled frown, not quite sure what they were talking about.

Vance McKenzie watched the duels in progress, and asked Mick, "Who's that one?"

"Vayden Carlyle."

"Ah, yes. I know his father."

At that moment, the target went white and stopped moving. Mick said, "That means it's taken twenty hits. Vayden's taken three. Since Harry joined us, I found it prudent to ensure the trainees can win. Better that than having the indestructible targets destroyed."

The other duels finished, and Mick said, "Charlie and Bruce now."

McKenzie watched the two for a short time, then said, "Harry?"

Mick turned to Harry, "The end lane." He grinned and winked, "I understand that it's your favourite!"

Tracey and Harry traded a look, wondering what he knew. Harry asked, "Any limitations?"

"Same rules as usual. Intensity 6." Harry nodded, thinking he'd manage it quite easily.

He took ten minutes, and used the time to practise three new curses that Trimble had demonstrated in Defence. McKenzie said afterward, "Very impressive, Harry. I'm McKenzie, you know. Head of the Auror Section."

"How do you do, Auror McKenzie."

"Something special next. I want the area opened right out, and you're to face two students, plus Mick. The students can mark, trip or disarm. Mick will only make one type of spell, which will be a surprise to you. A harmless spell. Once achieved, he will return here to watch."

"Yes, Sir."

Dumbledore smiled benignly, and said, "Good luck."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry had faced more than one before. He sometimes won, sometimes lost.

The contestants arranged themselves, Mick in one corner of the expanded area, Draco and Vayden quite close together, in another corner, and Harry facing them, crouched ready, wand in hand.

Mick was inactive to begin with, just watching, as Draco and Vayden were both hit quite early on, and then he had to quickly shield when Harry whirled and attempted to disarm him. Vayden and Draco were working together, Draco methodically pulling down Harry's shields, while Vayden attacked aggressively. Harry went down, not hit, but in a quick manouevre to get closer to Mick, aiming at him again. Mick displayed his own reflexes, avoiding the series of disarming spells, and the moment Harry was distracted by the other pair, hit him with the powerful spell that brought his glasses flying to his hand. Harry swore, and surrounded himself with a solid shield. Mick let himself out of the enclosed area.

Draco snapped, "Move, Vayden. We can take him now."

Harry tipped his head to the side, dropped his shield, and sent a series of marking spells at Vayden then Draco. Vayden took two, but Draco was faster to move, and Harry kept missing the blur. Harry took his first hit, and tried again to hit the blurs with a series of spells, spanning across the room. Draco doubled back, and again Harry missed and took a second hit. He was losing. He whirled his wand in a circle, and the whole scene froze.

Mick commented to McKenzie, "I haven't seen that one used in a duel before."

Fudge asked, "What is it?"

"I taught them more as a curiosity. It's a type of shield that freezes everybody in place for five minutes or so. But Harry can't move, either."

"Giving himself time to think?"

"I guess."

Abruptly, the three were moving again, and both Draco and Vayden were disarmed, though Harry missed catching the wands both times, and had to scrabble on the floor for them. But then he raised them in the air, a sign that the duel was over.

Both Mick and the Chief Auror were frowning in puzzlement, not quite sure what they'd seen. Mick said finally, "Again, Harry. You don't get your glasses, and Kevin, Draco and Vayden will take position while your eyes are closed. I'll tell you to open your eyes, and only when I say, does the contest start."

Harry knew how to do it now. He sought with his mind, finding the presence of the three young men, just at the distance where his sight was worst. He was ready, and the moment Mick gave the word, he had Draco wandless, Kevin a moment later, had to shield an aggressive attack from Vayden, and then Vayden, too, was disarmed. He pointed roughly at the floor, and said, _"Accio Wand,"_ but even then missed the catch. He couldn't 'see' the inanimate wands, as he could see the people.

Mick asked, "Harry, just exactly how did you do that?"

Harry frowned, how _had_ he done it? He thought he knew, but how to explain it? And maybe it was better not explained. He shrugged, "There were clues where they were." He glanced at Draco, "Draco's expensive after-shave for instance."

Draco said mockingly, "At least I have to shave. Do you shave yet, Harry?" Harry stroked over his face. Still smooth. He'd shaved three days before.

Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "Very interesting." The four men were in a small knot, the students in a second group at the other end of the room. Harry waited patiently.

McKenzie said in a low voice to Mick, "Telepathy is very rare."

"If it's that, it won't work against the targets."

Mick said, more loudly, "Another go, Harry. Against three targets. A fairly low level, and without glasses."

"Any limit on spells?"

"Don't damage anything."

The man-shaped targets, one of them headless, were not the same as people. Harry couldn't sense them, and while he scored some hits, he just didn't have the accuracy required to disarm them. He was on the defensive, repeatedly shielding, and dodging half-seen, half sensed spells coming at him. There was a large red splash in his chest from a hit.

Fudge asked, "Do the hits hurt?"

Mick explained, "Like a light punch and a slight sting. They have to know they've been hit, but it's far less than in the Auror Programme."

McKenzie said, musingly, "Challenges bring out abilities sometimes."

"Use normal training levels? Hurt him a little? He might pull something out of the hat."

McKenzie asked, "What do you think, Professor?"

Dumbledore said mildly, "I yield to your judgement. I'll be in my office, but I'll be very interested to hear the results of the small experiment." The headmaster left while Mick made the adjustments to the controls. Harry battled on, and to his relief, one of the targets glowed white and stopped moving. One down.

But then he dodged the wrong way, and a spell hit him hard on the leg, taking him to the ground. A heavy impact and a painful burning. Instantly he surrounded himself with a solid shield, and held it as he turned towards his instructor, glaring at him. The bastard! His shield dropped, and he waved his wand fiercely at the remaining two targets, which froze. Game over. He stalked to the door, and locked eyes with Mick Larkin, "Well?"

Mick hesitated, for the first time really believing that this boy might have a chance against the Dark Lord. He felt almost as if a burning brand was boring into his head.

McKenzie said mildly, "Simmer down, Harry. One has to have a reason to avoid being hit. What you felt is routine in Auror Training."

Harry bit out, "I am not in Auror Training, and I will not allow myself to be hurt for no good reason."

McKenzie asked, with a hint of mockery, "Not afraid of a little pain are you, Harry?"

Harry stared at him and his anger died. He said slowly, "Yes, I am very much afraid of pain. You will have to excuse me now, I think. I need a shower." Afraid of pain. Those days when he'd dragged himself out of bed, again and again, to attack Lord Voldemort, who was really Tom. Each time it was agony, agony for himself, agony for Tom. Never, ever again could he stand anything like that. He walked quickly through the castle, blind to his surroundings, a little pale-faced and sweaty with exertion.

Mick said to the other students, "Class over."

Steve asked, "Sir, how did he disable the targets? I didn't hear a spell."

McKenzie fiddled with the controls and said finally, "Just switched them off, it appears. A neat trick."

Charlie said, "I'll find him and return his glasses - Sir."

Mick handed him the glasses, and said, "Tell him I'm sorry, would you? I won't do that again, not without warning."

The students left, some subdued, Charlie and Bruce, the Gryffindors, angry. They had no right to do that to Harry. If they'd seen him screaming in pain when he felt Voldemort in his head, they'd know they shouldn't play silly games.

Harry was gliding on his broomstick high over the grounds of Hogwarts by the time that Charlie found him, with the help of Neville. He'd changed his mind about the shower, and simply used a cleaning spell on himself. Flying his broomstick always cleared his head. He finally went into a steep dive toward the ground, not hearing Neville, suddenly alarmed, calling, _"No_, Harry!"

Harry levelled out, smiling now. Speed was wonderful!

Charlie glanced at Neville, and said, "Did you think he would?"

Neville took a deep, shuddering breath, and explained, "He cries in his sleep sometimes. I thought it possible."

"Do you know why?"

"I thought it best not to ask."

"Surely if the Dark Lord was dead, we'd know it by now."

"You'd think so."

He hailed Harry, who turned to him in surprise, "I didn't see you there."

Charlie said, "Your glasses. Mick says he's sorry, and he won't do it again."

"That's good. I wasn't very happy about it."

Charlie laughed, "You made that obvious!"

Snape worked through some homework, correcting. In a corner of his office, copying out lines, was a Second Year boy. There was a knock at the door and Snape said briskly, "Enter!"

Harry entered, and said respectfully, "Professor Snape." Snape glanced meaningfully at the boy, and Harry said, "Sorry to interrupt, Sir. I just needed something clarified."

"Yes, I've been meaning to talk to you, Potter." He glanced at the boy, and snapped, "Enough, Winton. Pay more attention in class."

The boy scrambled to pack up, "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Peter brushed past Harry on the way out. A few of the younger students tended to do that, as if touching him was good luck.

Only when the boy was gone, did Snape ask, "What is it, Harry?"

"I thought it time that the body was discovered, Sir, if you can manage that."

"An anonymous letter to the Aurors will take care of it. I was wondering when you'd get tired of being the centre of attention."

"There's been compensations. No teacher gives me detentions, and I bet that I would not have been allowed to take up Arithmancy if they hadn't thought I might just clear out again."

"Dumbledore wants me to give you lessons in telepathy."

Harry dropped into the chair, and said, "I didn't realise what I was doing to begin with. I was just duelling. Stupid to show anyone."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I don't want to learn telepathy, Severus. It's like peeping into someone's bedroom."

"It can be very useful."

"I'm sure. I can do without."

"You can already do it, can't you?"

"I've never used it. Only Voldemort and that was different. But yes, I guess I know how."

Snape suggested, "Agree for now, and you can simply work on what you want to work on. Do your History reading for example. After a bit, I'll say you're hopeless. By then, no-one will care."

Harry smiled, "By next year, that stupid prophecy will be forgotten."

Snape asked, "Coffee? Biscuits?"

Harry grinned, "Not pressing chocolate drinks on me any more?"

"You look perfectly fit to me."

"Various machines for the gym are due next week. I hope they don't cancel the order."

"You think the gymnasium is just for you?"

"I think we would not have had it if not for me."

"Still want to be a builder?"

"Very much."

They talked on, and Snape said finally, "I enjoyed having you around, you know. And Devon. I hadn't had a holiday like that since I was very young."

Harry grinned, "I made you laugh, that's all. You don't laugh enough, Sev."

Snape laughed then, and agreed. Harry said, more seriously, "You'll never know how I came to value your company."

"Come back to me, if you like, even for Christmas holidays. By then, no-one will try and stop you."

"Severus...!" He looked down, "I would like that, I think, very much."

Snape almost snapped, "No-one must know. It would be unsafe for both of us."

"Yes, Severus. No-one must know."

Once Harry was gone, Snape drew a piece of parchment to him. He'd have to use magic to make the words, so that his hand went unrecognised, and send it from somewhere else, maybe even by Muggle post. The Ministry had a Muggle address, as did Hogwarts. Seldom used, but occasionally needed. For now, he started to map out a letter, but the first sentence was interrupted by a spasm of pain in his head. He dropped his pen, and the pain intensified. But Voldemort was dead! He should be able to divulge the secret now!

Snape tried to make it into the corridor where someone might find him, but gave up, and instead gave a despairing cry for Radshi. The house-elf was a long way away, and yet it is the nature of house-elves that he heard his master and responded.

Snape lay in bed in the hospital wing, flat on his back. If he didn't move, the pain was less. It was the middle of the following night. No-one was close, though he could call the hospital assistant if he needed. A presence moved softly toward him, and he started to turn his head, then stopped as the pain lanced through him again.

Harry said, "I'm sorry, Severus. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Snape said very quietly, "The Oath of Silence still stands. He must have based it on lives other than his own."

"At least you're not dead."

"There's a glass of water on the side table, with a straw. It hurts too much to raise my head, you see."

Harry gave a wry grin, "I remember the feeling." He stayed a little longer, and then said, "I can't come during the day, not without people knowing."

"Thank you for coming."

Harry grinned, "I regularly get caught wandering the corridors after curfew, and regularly get ignored. It seems I can get away with anything as long as I stay at Hogwarts."

"You like it here, though, don't you? You look happy."

Harry assured him, "I like it here. I am happy."

He did like it there, but it grated that he might not be able to leave when he chose. For the third time since he'd arrived back, he methodically checked each of the secret passages. None were negotiable, and few were even secret any more. No apparation in and out of Hogwarts, and after Voldemort's attack, over a year ago now, Hogwarts had been warded against Portkeys and closed off from the Floo Network. The unclimbable walls around the grounds really did seem to be unclimbable, though he hadn't gone as far as penetrating deep into the Forbidden Forest in order to try the wall that ran though there, about seven miles from the castle. The grounds of Hogwarts were very large, though much of it either lake or forest.

Harry was feeling fretful, restless. There was no point in going to bed when he wouldn't sleep anyway. On a sudden thought, he turned into a certain girls' bathroom, and wrinkled his nose at the air of ancient neglect. Chipped basins, too often puddles on the floor - that was Myrtle, of course - and a sour smell of poor plumbing. As far as he knew, no-one actually used this bathroom, though he didn't think that was any excuse to allow it to become such an eyesore. After all, school fees were high, and magical maintenance not nearly as expensive as the methods of Muggles.

Had anyone been in the Chamber of Secrets since that time? The events of his second year had never been made public. The Weasleys preferred that no-one know that their daughter had been possessed by Tom Riddle. All that was known, even by most of the school body, was that there had been a threat to the students, dealt with by wise old Professor Dumbledore. Harry walked to a particular wash basin and hissed to it, _Open._ The stained, chipped and cobwebbed porcelain sinks moved and turned, and a descending tunnel was revealed.

Harry peered in, wrinkling his nose. He had more resources at his fingertips now than he'd had when he was twelve, and before setting foot into the tunnel, he sent some very strong cleaning spells, and then conjured secure steps, even a safety railing. There was no need to know the incantation for every specific item one wanted to conjure. Just select the nearest thing that did have an incantation, and visualise it modified, as required. He'd made that breakthrough quite recently. Conjuring was a seventh year subject.

He prowled about the Chamber for a long time that night. The Baselisk lay in water, in the exact position it had died, though now it was just bare bones. The rats must have had a feast. There had been a plague of rats for nearly a year after the Baselisk was killed, though they'd died off again by fourth year. There did seem to be a possible route to the open air from the Chamber, but it would involve swimming through a dark tunnel of unknown length, and underwater. There was not much point if it would simply emerge in the lake. There was no escape from here.

Harry sighed, and reminded himself that he didn't actually need to escape. He did find another exit though, a passage and some stairs that emerged into an empty dungeon room. There was nothing of interest in it, just dust and cobwebs. It was nearly dawn by the time he quietly went to bed, not noticing Neville's eyes on him.

***x***

Mick's PT sessions had expanded. Nearly all of his duelling class, but several others as well, including Neville. Neville was a regular, usually close to Harry, working methodically at his level, and improving in fitness along with him. Mick asked, "Where's Harry?"

"I didn't wake him. He didn't sleep well last night."

Mick was instantly alarmed, "Not Himself? He's not close again, is he?"

Neville assured him, "Nothing like that."

"The headmaster told me what used to happen to him when he was close. I hope it stays peaceful."

"Yes, Sir."

Mick said briskly, "Exercises in the new gym first, then the run once it's light enough."

That afternoon would be the first Duelling lesson since Harry had made it clear that there were limits on his cooperation. Mick Larkin had a morning conference with Vance McKenzie, Healer Braithwaite and Clarke Clitheroe, Senior Auror in charge of training. McKenzie said grimly, "Dumbledore reports that he could have been looking for escape last night."

Mick asked quickly, "_Can _he escape?"

"He could escape by attacking the gate guards, but Dumbledore says he's never been aggressive."

Mick said soberly, "He looked positively dangerous on Monday."

"Quickly backed down, though."

"He said he's afraid of pain."

"Yes."

McKenzie turned to the healer, "Peter, how would you assess him if he applied to be an Auror?"

"He'd fail, obviously. It's not just that he's a long way short of the size and fitness standards, but that he's emotionally scarred. He's afraid of pain, afraid of trusting others, afraid to be helpless, even for a short time."

"The eyesight correction?"

"Dumbledore suggested that if it stays quiet, he can persuade him to submit to it over the Christmas break. That way, there would be no possibility of him being attacked by other students."

Braithwaite asked sceptically, "Is that likely? They're just children."

"By that thinking, so is Harry just a child. And he _has_ been attacked by other students. An attack last year was nearly fatal."

McKenzie asked, "What do you think, Clarke?"

"I think he should have it done."

McKenzie nodded. "Dumbledore's confident he can manage him. Word must not get out, and we won't tell the boy until it's time. He is right, of course. Unable to see and under the influence of pacifying potions, he'll be very vulnerable."

"Dumbledore says that the senior teachers are perfectly capable of protecting him. They would need to stay close, of course."

"Dumbledore's over-optimistic, sometimes. We'll have him under guard, I think. Two Aurors on duty with him at all times, just in case."

Braithwaite commented, "Vanden says it's vital that he feels safe. Stress during the recovery period could leave him blind."

"Why not just knock him out?"

"Unsuitable. Not only would he not be able to eat, but prolonged unconsciousness has its own stress on the body. A quiet recovery is vital."

"Are you willing to check on him every day, Peter? Closer attendance if necessary?"

"Like everyone else, I'm looking to him to provide us with a more peaceful future. I can't understand why the Monster has been so inactive."

"You lost your sister-in-law, didn't you?"

"She was Muggle-born."

Mick volunteered, "I'm happy to miss Christmas as well. And he likes me mostly. He seems happy enough. There's a girlfriend and that helps. He's not having problems with any of his subjects, even those he wasn't interested in doing, such as Defence and Potions."

"All we can do is try and keep him happy. He has to be there when the Dark Lord comes for him. An attack is not expected until after Christmas, maybe in the Spring. Do not hint to anyone, of course, that we have a new spy in his ranks." The 'spy,' Robert Ryan, was very happy that Voldemort's death was so far undiscovered, and was feeding false information in exchange for permanent immunity from prosecution for himself and his brothers. Severus Snape, former spy, was assumed to have lost the trust of Voldemort, and was therefore presumably marked for death.

Mick said tentatively, "The Daily Prophet speculates that he's in Germany."

"They are probably correct for a change. Our information is that he is actively recruiting. Our man cannot divulge his location of course, because of the Blood Vow, but he can give other information."

"Seven weeks until the Christmas break."

McKenzie ordered, "Mick, try and make the duelling as enjoyable as possible for him. It was my mistake on Monday, suggesting normal hit impact. I'm beginning to think that the way the Prophecy is fulfilled is that he'll kill defensively, out of terror."

Clitheroe said hardheartedly, "As long as he does the job."

Mick frowned at his colleague. He suspected that few of the Aurors would care if the boy died in the battle, just as long as Voldemort was also dead.

Make duelling as much fun as possible. Harry had always appeared to enjoy the challenges he was presented with, but maybe he could put some real laughter into it. His own Auror Training had been arduous, seldom fun, and it was as he strolled through Diagon Alley afterwards that a few ideas started to come to him. The boy might not even turn up. He'd been quite startled when Harry had shown him that face of cold fury. And while Dumbledore might tell him he had to do the subject, cooperation could not be forced. He needn't have worried. Harry turned up as normal for Duelling that afternoon, walking in hand in hand with Tracey, and while the students might have been surprised to be shooting down paper aeroplanes containing sweets, it improved their speed and accuracy, and there was a lot of laughter.

***x***

Ted McMillan looked around in satisfaction. It was Saturday morning, but his students were full of enthusiasm, wanting to complete their project. The gymnasium was still empty of machinery, but was almost finished. He found Harry in the adjoining shower block, carefully assessing whether the walls of the four shower cubicles were level.

Vincent Crabbe asked, "Harry, is this right?"

Harry glanced over, "That's great, Vince. You can make them permanent now."

Vince smiled in purest satisfaction, and nudged his companion in the ribs. "We can finish off now, Greg. We've done it right."

Greg said, "Told you it was right. You didn't have to ask Harry."

Harry asked, "Are you going to decorate the boy's showers, Greg, like Lavender and Parvati are doing in the girls?"

McMillan asked cautiously, "What are they doing?"

"Making designs on the glass. Didn't they tell you?"

"I'd best go check."

Harry went with him to the girls' block, where the teacher admired the swirly pattern on the shower walls. Lavender said proudly, "I've done the design with a very light cutting spell, Sir. Harry taught me. And he said he could fill in colours, but he couldn't show me how."

McMillan asked, "Harry?"

"I practised on some spare glass, but I don't think it's a recognised spell. No-one could do it."

"What colours can you do?"

"Whatever colours I can think of, I guess."

Lavender said critically, "Pity it's a boys' thing, a gymnasium."

Harry grinned, "The one I went to in summer - there were a lot of girls. They never seemed to actually raise a sweat, but they had all this fantastic, close fitting clothing, in bright colours. Like swimming costumes, some of them. It was where they showed off to the boys."

Parvati said, "Tell me one."

Harry gave a stage sigh, and spoke in a yearning tone, "Her name was Susan, I think. When I first saw her she wore a bright pink leotard over violet leggings, and under the top as well. Except that both garments were really low cut. Gorgeous!"

"Were you in love?"

"I didn't dare say a word to her. She had her eye on bronzed giants with muscles!"

There was general laughter, and Lavender said, "When you're tired of Tracey, can I be your girlfriend please, Harry?"

"I adore Tracey. Only if she dumps me, then ask me."

Parvati asked, "Where would you buy clothing like that?"

"Muggle stores. Witches always cover up everything - far too conservative. An awful shame!"

"I'll ask the clothier in Hogsmeade about getting some in."

Lavender said, "Of course, we'll need your advice, Harry. See what boys like."

Harry gave a light answer, but his spirits were suddenly heavy. When would he be free to even go to Hogsmeade? At least poor Severus was out of hospital, but he still hadn't resumed teaching, and he doubted that anyone would come across Voldemort's body by accident. In less than a year, he'd be seventeen, of age. Surely Dumbledore couldn't keep him confined then!

Albus Dumbledore strolled in accompanied by Professors Snape and McGonnagal. He glanced around and commended McMillan on his students' work. McMillan said, "They're becoming very creative. The girls are quite the artists." Lavender and Parvati grinned at each other when the revered old headmaster gave his approval to their work.

Snape nodded at the two Slytherin students, "You've done good work."

Vince and Greg stared at him in astonished pleasure. Snape's praise was very rare, especially for them.

Snape noticed Harry's eyes on him, and nodded slightly with a glimmer of a smile. A thank you for the gift of Baselisk scales from an old snakeskin, and crushed Baselisk bones. Potions ingredients, and very, very rare. As much more if he wanted, though Harry had explained that the venom was probably all gone, because the snake had died in water. A builder! Snape felt it a delightful irony that the hero of the wizarding world wanted to be a builder!

Dumbledore said, "Well, students, as good a job as you've done of this, for the next project, we're having the professionals in. They estimate a week, joining on to this, sharing the showers. A swimming pool, heated."

He smiled around, a twinkle in his eyes, waiting for the outpouring of gratitude. The students obliged with the expected surprise and delight. Harry hid his cynicism, and showed his perfectly genuine pleasure. He wouldn't be able to run soon, with the Winter snows, but now he could swim instead. He was far fitter now than he'd been for a long time. It felt good. Would the girls wear bikinis?

***x***


	8. Chapter 8

_Ownership__: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, many fanfiction authors have written of Marriage Bonds, and the characteristics of Veela, and the Hecatema belongs to Beren. _

_Terms__: Wizardkind is called Anirage, and Aniragi is the adjective, as well as the term for the language. An Aniragia is a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley._

_**Chapter 8:**_

Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room, studying with Ron, Hermione and Neville. He finished the Arithmancy problems, and checked the answers in the back of the textbook. He went back to one particular one, frowning, then said, "Hermione, would you check this for me? I can't see where I went wrong."

Hermione had done Arithmancy since third year, and she scanned quickly over the problem, before saying, "There's nothing wrong. The answer's correct."

"It gives a different answer in the text."

Hermione frowned, checked the answer, and then said with assurance, "The textbook's wrong. I've noticed that - wizards are not much good at precision and logic." She queried, "Fourth year text?"

"I need to catch up, and it doesn't seem very difficult. The Arithmetic part is easy, and the magical functions of numbers and their interaction - that's memorising more than anything. That's time consuming."

"Landen being cooperative?"

"Not very."

Hermione nodded wisely. "He's lost a lot of his family. He lives in dread of Voldemort, and probably thinks you'd rather play than face him."

Harry laughed, "He's got that right!"

Neville asked, very quietly, "Why don't you tell anyone he's dead?"

Harry replied in the same low tone, "Why would anyone believe me without a body? I don't know where he is. Besides, I think it best to let him just quietly fade from memory."

"So you're admitting he's dead?"

"Only to you, who helped. No point in telling anyone else. And remember, there are Death Eaters still alive."

Neville said quietly, "Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Dead."

Neville stared, "Is she?"

Harry nodded. Neville sat back in his chair, trying desperately not to cry. Abruptly, he stood and hurried out. His parents were finally avenged.

Ron asked, "Anyone else you know?"

"Avery and Abernathy. Fenrir Greyback, but I think that's known. Another called Price. I'd never heard of him, but his offense was incompetence. He just vanished the body with that one. He quite often just vanished the body."

Ron said, horrified, "It's against all custom to do that!"

"He was half-mad. Too many years alone and without a body. He could never have won a war, the way he was."

"So we never had to be very much afraid of him?"

"He liked to torture and kill. But he was only human. He was always only human."

Harry didn't want to talk about Voldemort, and changed the subject, "If Landen doesn't agree to let me go into fourth year lessons after the Christmas break, I'll threaten to run away again. It has its uses, being wanted."

"The swimming pool?"

Harry grinned, "A heated swimming pool. And all I did was mention the idea to Draco. He must have taken it from there."

Hermione asked curiously, "What's Draco like at duelling?"

"Good. More strategy than Charlie, for instance. He and Vayden work especially well together."

"You know the DA is still going. Ron and I don't worry about it any more, but some of the members are very dedicated."

"Ernie asked me to do some tutoring, but I just don't have time, and tomorrow, AT starts." This was a subject called 'Aniragi Traditions,' which Muggle-born and Muggle-raised students were to do. The rest of the students were to do 'Mugglekind Ethics' at the same time. Thursday, first period, every week, until the Christmas break, six lessons. One or other of the two subjects was compulsory for all sixth years.

Professor Laurence Kent was a young man, very blonde, and of almost delicate appearance. He was from an ancient line of Pure-blood wizards, and now looked over the assembled students with an appearance of disdain. The Muggle-born - children born as the result of rape or seduction of a Muggle woman by a wizard. The Pure-bloods despised them, and blamed their existence on those who didn't understand the obligations of wizards. A rape had always to be followed by the wiping of memory and an anti-conception spell. Even a sterility spell, just to be on the safe side. Or one could kill the woman. It was easy to kill with magic, while the Obliviate was tricky.

He suddenly noticed Harry, and said, surprised, "Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Sir."

"The Potters are from as long a line as any of the Pure-bloods. What are you doing here?"

Harry answered politely, "I was raised by Muggles, Sir. I have very little knowledge of customs and traditions, aside from those few I've come across at school."

"Do you know Aniragi?"

"No, Sir."

"You should. Everyone should." Aniragi was the ancient language of wizardkind everywhere. There was a push to have every wizard child taught the language.

Hermione whispered as they sat, "He sneers at us. Do you see?"

Harry nodded, "I see. Justin looks like he's on the point of explosion already, and he hasn't even been obvious about it yet."

Kent went into his lecture - twenty-three names of Pure-blood families of Britain, including that of Malfoy, and also Bowen. Tracey was a Bowen. Other familiar surnames such as Zabini, Black, and Parkinson. Kent explained, "You could say it's like Muggle nobility, and some of them actually are nobles in that world." The lesser families, who'd intermarried with Muggles and were looked down upon for that reason. "In the past, it has been an alternative to marrying cousins, but these days, with travel so much easier, there are more links being made between families of different nations." Wizarding nations did not necessarily coincide with Muggle nations. Muggles were too apt to have wars and change borders. "In the main, the Pure-blood families don't look down on Muggles or the Muggle-born, just that it's so vitally important that our existence remain a secret from Mugglekind. We don't want another Holocaust." The Holocaust referred to was the witch-burnings of the Middle Ages, though that was not the first. Holocausts before that had been even more devastating, reducing the wizard population to remnants, and its civilisation and customs being absorbed largely into the general population. It was why Aniragi was almost an extinct language and the Pure-bloods so dedicated to keeping at least some of the ancient traditions alive.

The students were paying attention, forgetting that they were the ones who were deemed a risk. Even in History of Magic, the Holocaust had not been covered, and most of them had thought it was mere snobbery that Pure-bloods looked down on the rest of them. They were gaining a deeper understanding now. The fact that nearly all of these students were the result of rape was not mentioned. The ugly fact was _never_ openly acknowledged, though a few knew or suspected.

Hermione said, "I've heard that many of the Pure-blood families arrange marriages for their children."

"That is so."

Justin said critically, "In civilised countries, arranged marriages are regarded as a violation of human rights."

"Within Wizardkind, such marriages are common, and almost always successful, because of the Bonding."

"The Bonding?"

"This is the sort of thing that most wizard children grow up knowing. This is why this subject is necessary. I will explain further."

Harry listened closely, and a yearning grew in him. A Magical Bond. Two people who could feel each other, who knew each other's emotions. Two people who could love each other. If only he could have that, the hole in him would be gone, his wound healed.

Dean asked, "If one of the people die, what happens to the other?"

"With the common Marriage Bond, it is only normal grief. In the strongest of the Marriage Bonds, the Vere Ultima, if one dies within the first years, the other would die. There are other inconveniences with that sort of Bond, which is why hardly any elect to have that. It is an imitation of the Bond between a Hecatema and her mate, or a Bijn Yusdu pairing. Those two types of Bonds are very close, to the point where one can hear what the other thinks."

Hermione commented, "Most would hate that."

"You'd think so, but those in such a bond are invariably very happy. Why do you think so many men dream of winning a Hecatema, women of being chosen by a Yusdu? Hecatemae are extremely rare, of course, and there is only one Bijn Yusdu clan, who live in Germany. Actual Yusdu number probably only about a score. There are more Veela, and some of our families can boast of having Veela blood. The Kents have Veela blood."

Justin asked slowly, "How can you call yourself a Pure-blood when you have Veela blood?"

Kent said patiently, "Veela and certain other varieties of humans _add_ to a magical family. They don't detract from it. Those of us lucky enough to have that, boast of it. We're in demand as marriage partners."

Harry asked, "Can you tell us more about these special bonds. I've never heard of a Hecatema."

"Hecatema. There are Muggle stories of a beautiful princess being imprisoned in a tall tower, or guarded by dragons, or sleeping even, until the handsome prince, her own true love, wins her. These tales are based on Hecatemae, for whom men die in battle. Always beautiful, and once Bonded, very powerful."

Hermione said in a cool voice, "Except that it's not a kiss that wins her, it's the most powerful wizard who gets through her shields and rapes her. I found the facts acutely distasteful."

Kent shrugged, "It is nature, and nature can be cruel."

The boys had more questions, but Kent said, "Enough! We're getting sidetracked. In the list of optional reading, I have included a book about closely related human species. Those interested could read up. Mr. Potter, if I were you, I would read about Hecatemae, as you would certainly be one to feel the Call. There are also Yusdu, who actively seek out the most handsome, famous, wealthy and powerful wizards around. You might make the famous and powerful parts. I don't know about those other things."

Harry laughed. No-one would take him for handsome, and few would know he was wealthy.

Professor Kent started talking about Pure-blood Law and the ramifications of the legal system. Harry went into a dream.

At last, they started to pack up, and Hermione nudged Harry, "Wake up, Harry! And I don't know why you're interested in Magical Bonds anyway. It never did you any good."

Harry gave a rueful grin, "Just that it would be so nice to have someone in my head who doesn't want to hurt me."

"I've read all about it. A Marriage Bond for instance. The Vere Ultima - for weeks, it hurts if someone else touches you, and if she dies, you die. Do you want that?"

Harry shrugged. Hermione stopped dead and stared at him. Was that why he'd returned late to school? _Had_ he nearly died? She reached out and touched him, but they had to part then, Harry to Arithmancy, Hermione to Defence.

It was good being able to order any books he wanted, and Harry wrote down the titles of several books that would give him more information about Magical Bonds. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure he could never be fully happy unless he had someone again, as close as his brother had been. That had been an unintentional bond, and a sick one. A bond that had caused agony. Yet then, there hadn't been a part of his soul that was torn and incomplete.

Harry's grades slipped in the next few weeks, as he voraciously consumed every book he could lay his hands on that mentioned any sort of Magical Bonding. In one of the supposed Telepathy lessons, he was reading the book about Hecatemae for the third time, when Snape said quietly, "If you want something like that, it should be quite easy to find a girl willing to enter into a Marriage Bond with you. Not until after you finish your schooling, of course."

Harry was surprised a moment, then smiled ruefully, "You know me very well, Severus."

"I saw your pain when he died, remember. The grief afterwards. If you'd been alone, you would have died."

Harry looked back at his book, and said, "It's barbaric. A scramble of berserk wizards in a race to rape the poor girl. I couldn't do that. Yet afterwards - it says that there are no couples happier than a Hecatema pairing."

"Veela pairings are close as well, but Veela have horrible tempers. Bijn Yusdu are not only very rare, but they normally only take physically perfect specimens."

"What happens if there's a pairing like that when one of the partners is still at school? Hecatemae start Calling soon after they turn sixteen, it says."

"There are special rules to accommodate a Bonded pair, though not a voluntary Marriage Bond. You cannot be married and still be a normal school student."

"Hecatemae are always female, Veela more often female than male, but Yusdu can be either male or female."

Snape nodded, and advised, "Don't accept a Yusdu if one does come for you. The Yusdu always dominate, the Bijn is the subordinate."

"They sound a bit fearsome."

"Tall, much stronger than a normal person. Leonine in appearance. Short, ginger hair like a mane. Golden eyes."

Harry looked down at his book and Snape studied him. On the surface, the youth enjoyed life. He was witty, bright and active. His face was no longer hollow-cheeked, his expression no longer haunted. Snape asked slowly, "You're still mourning him, aren't you?"

Harry started, and when he looked up, his eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

Snape queried gently, "Well?"

Harry said quietly, "No-one knew him, not really. And not a soul was sorry he was dead. It was not his fault, what he became."

"He became a monster. He tortured people because he enjoyed it."

"I know that. When he tortured, I felt it, too. It is a good thing that he can't hurt anyone any more. I did the right thing, causing his death. At the last, it was so easy. Just a squeeze in the right place. If only I'd known at the start, I wouldn't have had to hurt him so much."

It was the first time that he'd spoken of any of that time, and Snape wondered if that was part of the reason why he hadn't quite recovered from its trauma.

Harry asked, "Have you ever seen a Hecatema?"

"Like many young men, I dreamed of winning the race for a Hecatema. When I was twenty-four, someone dropped me the word that one was due to start Calling. They'd holed her up in a remote location so there wouldn't be too many contenders. With the information, I went as close as I could, and waited. The Call only extends around fifty miles, and only a few out of a hundred wizards might feel it. Those between 16 and 40, and only those whole and healthy. When it started, even with the knowledge it was coming, it was hard not to just mindlessly start running to her. I could see her in my mind. I managed to tear down the shields she'd thrown up, but then someone behind me paralysed me, while another raced ahead, and grabbed her, very rough. Then he fell as well, stunned, and the man who'd been behind me, went to her, slapped her face hard, maybe to make her stop struggling, and then took her. She'd been screaming, terrified, but afterwards, she just lay there looking totally peaceful. The Calling stopped and we were sensible again. We left the girl for the victor to look after. By all reports, the pair are very happy, and still look twenty. It sounds so cruel, raping a girl in order to claim her. But it's the way of Hecatemae, and afterwards, they're happy. Songs are written about the love between a Hecatema and her mate."

"But to rape the girl! I could not imagine forcing myself onto any girl."

"If you feel the full strength Call, you would not be able to help yourself. She always resists, and I guess that's instinctive as well, to ensure she only winds up with the best. But then she accepts it, and then she wants it, and within days, she can't do without her Soul Mate. She develops new powers that could drive her insane without his help. The Soul Mate instinctively knows how to help."

"Hecatemae are so powerful?"

"They're incredibly powerful. They are a part of magic like we are not. Instead of incantations and wands, they think of what they want to happen, and it happens. But they're peaceful. They have no desire for power, and they won't fight - or only if they're attacked or their Soul Mate is attacked."

Harry looked down at his book, and asked, "Veela?"

"Veela quite often marry outside their own species, as there are more females than males. They select a mate, and set out to win him or her. If they don't win the chosen one, there are no second chances. The Veela dies."

"Part-blood Veela?"

"Fleur Delacourt was part Veela, as I presume you know. The traits are diluted, the beauty, the irresistible attraction to the opposite sex, and luckily, the temper. I would still be very hesitant to get between a part Veela and her mate."

"Are they always blonde?"

"Always. Very pale blonde."

"Like Draco?"

Snape nodded, "The Malfoys have Veela in their ancestry, though it hasn't manifested itself for generations except in their colouring."

"And Bijn Yusdu, which you suggested it's best to avoid."

"If you can. I've heard that if a Yusdu wants you, you're gone. And while a Marriage Bond makes you proof against the Call of a Hecatema, or the attraction of a Veela, a Yusdu will try and take you anyway. He or she expects to have exactly who they choose. But they only choose one in a life-time, and those pairs, too, are supposed to be blissfully happy. Just as long as the Bijn does not wish to rule the partnership."

"Why are there so few?"

"Yusdu and Yusdu cannot have live children together. Yusdu and Bijn - the Bijn is the chosen one, tend to have many children, but only a few who are Yusdu. They're easy to pick - they look like lions."

Harry was thoughtful, and Snape said, "Harry, might I suggest you just wait a while? You're only sixteen, and you _will_ start to feel whole again, I promise."

Harry shook his head, "I need another close, Severus. Closer than any ordinary girlfriend. Being complete but without the pain. I never expected to feel so empty afterwards, didn't quite realise how intertwined were our minds. When I was little, even when I was punished, I never felt quite alone. I didn't know that it was not normal. And then after the Triwizard Tournament, it was only closer."

"You seem happy enough."

"Yes..." Harry traced a line on his book, and then sighed, "I'm being very silly, I think. It was a sick bond accidentally caused by an evil man. I just have to get over it." He glanced at the clock, "Call it a day?"

Snape nodded, and added, "Dumbledore says to persevere with the lessons until the Christmas break, and reassess then."

"You could say that we're getting on better, if you like. So it won't seem so out of place if I slip, and maybe smile at you."

"That seems sensible."

There was time for a quick swim before dinner, and afterwards, to Hermione's relief, she saw Harry working on some Charms homework. He was still being treated with kid gloves, but she was disapproving when he didn't hand in assigned homework. When he started packing up, she asked, "Seeing Tracey tonight?"

"Yes, though she was a bit annoyed with me. It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and I had to explain that I'm a prisoner."

Hermione said, shocked, "You're not a prisoner, Harry!"

"A comfortable prison, and I'm doing what I want to do, but I can't leave, and that makes me a prisoner."

Ron asked, "The secret tunnels?"

"None open, and I've checked the walls, even the one through the forest. I couldn't get over, no matter what I did. There's no escape on broomstick, and I can't slip past the gate guards even with my Invisibility Cloak. Haven't you seen them check around with a Revealing Spell before letting people in and out?"

"I guess. I didn't quite realise."

Harry shrugged, "I didn't quite realise myself, at first. I assumed I could escape easily enough if I needed to, but I can't. It's why they don't make a fuss for minor transgressions. They're afraid I'll simply force my way out."

"Take down the gate guards, you mean?"

"Yes."

Ron said, "They say you're amazing at duelling."

"Maybe, but I prefer to duel for lollies than actually hurt anyone. Mick has us playing games. He assumes that the skills will come into play when needed, as I suppose they would."

"Would the gate guards really stop you?"

"I'll go with you to the gates on Saturday, and we'll see just exactly what they do."

"Maybe they're only making sure no enemies get in."

"Yeah, maybe..." His tone was sceptical.

On Saturday, Harry walked with Ron and Hermione to the gates, as if he had every intention of going with them to the small town. One of the guards said, "Harry, you know you're not allowed close to the gates. Security, you know."

Harry replied, "Voldemort's in Germany, everyone knows that. I need to buy some things."

"Unsafe. Sorry, Harry."

Harry ignored him and continued to advance. The guard drew his wand, and a second guard hurried over, also with his wand drawn. Harry asked, "Are you going to stop me?"

"We have orders to use whatever force required to keep you safe and within bounds."

Harry shrugged, and said, "Told you, Ron. I'm a prisoner." The guard breathed a sigh of relief, and Harry eyed him with some humour, "It's all right, Jim. I'm a very peaceful type of person. I won't take you on."

Hermione asked, "Is he allowed out for Christmas?"

"I have no orders."

His friends glanced back at Harry as they left, seeing him standing well back from the gates, watching them. Ron said, "I'll ask if he can come to us for Christmas. He'll be awfully lonely, otherwise."

Hermione dropped her voice further, "How's he sleeping?"

"He's started closing his curtains again, and I'm pretty sure he puts a Silencing Shield on. That's ever since the night he woke us all by calling out that he was sorry, and Neville went to him."

Hermione nodded. Neville was far better at looking after Harry than Ron was. She'd heard about that episode, that Harry had woken himself with his cry to 'Tom,' and when Neville had gone to him, had wound up sobbing on his shoulder, though he wouldn't or couldn't say what was wrong. They guessed it was something to do with those painful mental duels that had finally resulted in his enemy's death. He'd never told them any details, but they'd seen enough to know what it had cost him.

***x***

There were only a few days to go before the Christmas break. It hadn't thawed since the first snow, and Mick's training all took place inside, the gymnasium, now fully equipped, and laps of the pool. Harry's swimming was vastly improved, and after nearly four months of regular training, he was beginning to have rather a nice build. He was still thin, but was four inches taller than he'd been when he'd gone to Snape's, and was still growing. He might never catch up to Neville or Ron, but he no longer looked like a junior student.

He and Ron went to Professor McGonnagal's office with Molly Weasley's invitation to go to her for Christmas. Ron put their case, arguing that Harry would promise not to try and leave, that there seemed no imminent threat from Death Eaters, and there would be six Weasleys to protect him in any case, including their parents. Professor McGonnagal gave a look of sincere sympathy to Harry, and said that he was not permitted out of the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry sighed. He hadn't really expected it.

Ron demanded fiercely, "When then? When will you let Harry be free?"

"Harry is underage, and under the authority of Professor Dumbledore. He is not a prisoner, only that he must be protected."

Harry said, "Then can I ask something else? I want to be accelerated through fourth year Arithmancy next term, then fifth year in time for the OWLs. Professor Landen refuses. Can you speak to him, please?"

"How are your marks, Harry?"

"I spend only enough time on the subject to master it. I have not failed any assignment."

"The same as Transfiguration, then."

"The same as any subject really."

"Have you been doing any History?"

"I'm very interested in History. I have to resist the temptation to spend too much time on it."

"I will speak to Professor Landen then. I realise your workload is very high."

Harry smiled, "Thank you, Professor McGonnagal."

McGonnagal warned, "He's your teacher, of course. It is up to him."

He had a date with Tracey that night, the last one before Christmas. Tracey had special permission to leave two days early, though she hadn't told him why. They used the same end duelling lane, this time furnished with conjured table and chairs, and a supper provided by the house-elves. The creatures were always happy to fall over themselves to give Harry what he wanted.

For a time they talked generally, laughing about Mick's final Duelling exercise that day. A large model pig filled with lollies and small gifts, and the exercise was to break it and retrieve the gifts, but using only shield spells. Draco had finally achieved it, by activating a large shield spell actually inside the pig, pushing it open from inside. It shouldn't really have worked, but it did. A little of the treasure trove graced the table.

Tracey turned pensive, quiet, and quite suddenly pulled a small wrapped gift from her pocket. "For you, for Christmas."

Harry looked down at his package, beginning to be worried. There was something about the way Tracey looked at him. Something was wrong, something more than the imminent separation. He opened his package, and was suitably grateful for the watch, and Tracey said that she'd noticed he didn't have one.

Harry brought out a gift from his own pocket, and said anxiously, "It's a set. I hope you like it. I made it in Construction Class, and Flitwick helped with some protective charms."

Tracey smiled, "I will like whatever you made."

She inspected it, and wondered if the gift wrapping was conjured. The designs were a little amateurish, though she could see he'd spent some time on them. She unwrapped it carefully, trying not to tear the paper. It wouldn't last long, of course. While furniture conjured by a competent wizard might last a few months, paper or fabric always vanished quite quickly. She spread out the set of jewellery on the table in front of her. A necklace, two bracelets, earrings, and a ring for a finger. It was not set aside, just there as a part of the set. She raised one of the earrings, and moved it so that it glowed different colours, and said softly, "They're beautiful, Harry." Harry smiled at her thanks, but he was still worried.

Tracey watched him. He was looking down, twirling the watch in his fingers. Eighteen months younger than herself, he sometimes seemed naive, and sometimes adult way beyond her own years. These last three months, he'd been growing almost as she watched. He'd seemed so small that first time, though the sex had been great. The sex was always great. She finally said, "I have to tell you." She hesitated, but he didn't look up. Telepathy? They all knew he was supposed to be studying telepathy. Maybe he already knew. She said hastily, "It's been finalised. I'm betrothed to the son of Wolfgang and Sonia Reisch, of Germany. We have the Bonding Ceremony in the summer after I graduate. It's why I couldn't ask you to be with us for Christmas. I'm to go meet the family."

Harry didn't respond at first, his heart full of jealousy. Tracey said, "It's not as if you love me or I love you. The Reisch family can trace their ancestry back a thousand years. They have power and wealth. It's a very astute match."

Harry said in a low tone, "Kent said the Potters were an old family. You could Bond with me. I'd like you to Bond with me."

Tracey shook her head, but spoke gently, "It's not suitable Harry. Just because we have great sex, and get along... And anyway, my father forbade me." She reached out to him, and said, "It doesn't mean we have to stop seeing each other, not until after the Bonding." She took his hand, and shook it gently from side to side, half-smiling, "Can you claim you love me? You've never loved me, as I don't love you."

"I think you're wonderful."

"Yes, but you don't love me."

All this time, Harry hadn't raised his eyes from his new watch. He asked, in a pretend casual tone, "What Bonding Ceremony will you choose."

"It depends how I like him. Just the normal bond if we get on, but a couple of degrees higher if we find we don't like each other much. A Bond makes for a close match, though I know they're not generally popular."

"Not the Vere Ultima Bond?"

"Who would want that by choice? Maybe it could be used if a union was essential. As it is, if we loathe each other, we'll just call it off."

Harry finally looked up, smiling at her, and if his eyes were a bit shiny, she pretended she didn't notice. "You say we can still have sex?"

"Of course. And you were going to have to find a new girlfriend next year in any case."

Afterwards, he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, and gently traced a breast with a finger. She watched him through half-closed eyes. His face was so sad. At last he leaned over and kissed her, "This Reisch fellow is a very lucky man."

Tracey was on her way to Germany quite early the next morning. Her mother said, "You told him, of course."

"Yes."

Her father said, "The Seers are almost unanimous. They think that both he and Voldemort will die when the confrontation comes. Only the one Prophecy is widely known, but there are at least two others."

"He said that Professor Kent told him that the Potters were an old family. He didn't seem to have even known. And they won't let him off the grounds."

"He's needed. And you can take pride that you did your part to keep him happy and where he has to be."

Tracey turned her face away. There was no point Bonding herself to someone who was going to die, and besides, he was half-blood, even if the Potters were an old family. James Potter had shown his disregard for the Potter name when he'd married a Mud-blood. Harry had Muggle relatives. But he was sweet, and quite good-looking in his own way, and she cared about him. It would have been nice to give him what he wanted.

Harry put on a cheerful face when he said good-bye to his friends. Many met family outside the gates, while others took the train. It was only at the beginning and end of the school year that the whole of the student body was expected to be on the train. Tradition. Wizards were great ones for tradition.

He wandered aimlessly around the empty grounds afterward, ignoring the security guard who was pretending not to be watching him.

Dumbledore sat in his office, reading some reports, when there was a warning buzz. He looked up, alarmed. Was it now? Was Voldemort coming? One of the portraits spoke, "Security report. No apparent attack. Harry Potter is triggering the alarms."

Dumbledore sat again, and asked, annoyed, "How?"

"The wards above the external walls. He's on his broomstick."

"He tried that months ago. He knows he can't get through." There was another buzz and Dumbledore decided to go and see.

McGonnagal was already outside, and pointed. Harry was very high, and going very fast, every now and then brushing against the wards. Quite suddenly, he started climbing, more and more steeply. Dumbledore hurried now, wand at the ready. If Harry hit the 'ceiling' barrier, he'd be hurt. He'd have to try and slow his fall.

Harry felt the first tingling of the barrier, and pulled his broom over, flying upside down for a moment, before looping around, and again striking one of the external barriers. He was in a turmoil, not knowing what he wanted. Just that suddenly, the confinement was driving him mad. He dived, away from the castle, over the forbidden forest, cape flapping in the wind behind him.

Hagrid found him two hours later, sitting in a gnarled old tree, made more comfortable with a conjured chair, even with a cushion. He was surrounded by an area of warmth, a heating charm. He was within sight of the far boundary wall, covered with lichen, and with overhanging branches of trees. It looked as if it should be easy to scale, or jump over, or even tunnel under. Maybe Voldemort or Dumbledore or even Snape, were sufficiently clever wizards to negotiate the obstacle, but Harry was not - or not yet.

Hagrid bellowed, "Harry, come on down. It's getting dark."

From the first, Harry had not thought it useful to alienate any of the teachers, and he liked Hagrid. He mounted his broom, vanished the chair, but left the warming charm to gradually wear off. There were a few small animals that had been enjoying the unusual warmth.

Hagrid said kindly, "Stay with me for a while if you like, Harry. I've got a few checks to make on certain of the animals."

"Thank you, Hagrid."

The half-giant may not have been scintillating company, but Harry was fond of him. Hagrid didn't voice any criticism of his brief rebellion, only talked in a comforting monologue about the care of the various creatures he was tending. Harry's soreness faded.

Hagrid sat beside him at dinner, as well. He was the only student, but Mick was there, to his surprise. Surely he'd heard that Mick was married. There were also Professors McGonnagal and Flitwick. Non teaching staff ate elsewhere, and Trelawney was seldom seen outside her own apartments. Harry hadn't seen her since he'd passed her in the corridor weeks before, and she'd sighed and said, apparently to herself, "Harry Potter, poor child. So sad!"

Dumbledore entered, robes swinging, and said cheerily, "Well, this is cosy. So few of us, though I do believe Severus plans to join us." He took a seat directly across the table from Harry.

At that moment, Snape came in and drawled, "Potter! You looked like you were trying to kill yourself earlier."

"Just rattling the bars a little, Sir. I have no particular desire to die."

Mick commented, "You can certainly fly!"

Harry cheered up, "It's the _best _thing about being a wizard, the absolute speed and exhilaration of flying."

Dumbledore inspected his menu, tapped it with his wand, and said, "Beef please, with wine."

The others followed suit. Harry requested roast lamb, with a light lager, then looked at Dumbledore, wondering whether he'd say anything. After all, he was still only sixteen. Dumbledore winked, "Just the one, Harry. Though I'm not actually sure they'll have it."

Harry grinned, "They like me. They'll probably provide some." He was very hungry after the hours spent outside in the cold, and devoured his meal, then requested seconds, and another beer. It was provided, in a miniscule glass that made him laugh, and request a butterbeer in a normal size glass. He was feeling a lot better, and chatted easily to Mick about the possibility of some sort of international competition in duelling.

Only after dessert did McGonnagal pull a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Harry. "Professor Landen has agreed to take you into his fourth year class for next term, and if progress is satisfactory, you'll finish the year with the fifth years."

Harry beamed, "Thank you, Professor McGonnagal."

"How are you going with History?"

"Fine. Hermione suggested last year that we stop bothering with lectures that put us to sleep, and do a structured reading programme instead. Binns never noticed, and we all did better."

Dumbledore said coolly, "Professor Binns is a well respected teacher, Harry. Do not presume to judge."

Harry shrugged.

Mick said, with a chuckle, "I remember sleeping through his classes myself. He's been teaching a long time."

Dumbledore turned his displeasure to the upstart, and then realised his probable intention. It was set for tomorrow, but Harry had to agree. It could not be done without his cooperation. He said in his best benign voice, eyes twinkling, "Well, we won't argue about the relevance of history, my boy. I wanted to talk to you about something else entirely."

Harry looked at him, and was immediately on his guard. He could almost feel the Mind-Magic, making him want to agree, making him think of his headmaster almost as a father figure. He tore his eyes from him, and made his mind opaque.

"An early Christmas gift for you, Harry. When your friends return to school, you can greet them seeing perfectly, and _without_ glasses."

Harry considered it. There didn't appear to be any Death Eaters wanting revenge, Voldemort was gone, and so were the other students. Dumbledore still waffled on about the undoubted benefits to him, and how he would be safe. Harry waited until he paused, and asked, "Are there any new members of staff I don't know about?"

"None since Mick, Harry. And anyway, you know you can trust me to keep you safe."

Harry gave a half grin. Sure. How many times had he nearly been killed when Dumbledore was supposedly keeping him safe? He glanced at Snape, who merely looked impassive.

Mick said, "There's to be two Aurors close at all times, plus myself. Professor Snape has also volunteered to be close, with other professors in reserve. The precautions are not needed for your safety, but are to ensure that you feel totally safe. Healer Vanden says it's imperative that you feel safe."

Dumbledore leaned forward and said persuasively, "You know your destiny, Harry. You have a duty to your world to be as well prepared as possible, and that includes having your vision corrected."

Harry stated, "I do not acknowledge that I owe anything to anybody."

Mick said, "You'll be better looking without glasses."

Harry laughed, "So I would! When then?"

Mick answered, "First thing tomorrow. It's all arranged. And by the way, I'll be sleeping in your dormitory tonight, as additional protection."

Harry frowned, "That's not necessary. I'm always alone at times like this. I'm used to it."

Dumbledore said in a gentle voice, "It is decided. In the morning, nine o'clock, you report to Madam Pomfrey. Six nights in the hospital wing, and then you're free."

"Free?"

"Of course, you were never anything else."

Harry wondered whether he had allowed himself to be influenced by the headmaster's skills, checked through his own reasons for agreeing, and said, "I'm agreeable. But if I'm free, I want Hogsmeade privileges."

"Certainly - the moment we can be sure that no-one will take you down. You are a target, remember."

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Ownership__: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, many fanfiction authors have written of Marriage Bonds, and the characteristics of Veela, and the Hecatema belongs to Beren. *____Terms used__: Wizardkind is technically called Anirage, Aniragi is the adjective, as well as the term for the language. An Aniragia is a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley._

_**Chapter 9**__:_

Christmas Day. Harry carefully raised himself from his bed, touched the blindfold, and felt his way to the toilet. Mick was close. He could feel him. Making sure he didn't fall over. He'd helped him shower earlier as well, and then Madam Pomfrey had put on a new blindfold, told him he was doing well, and had given him another potion. Mick was there in the daytimes, Snape at night. No-one reminded him it was Christmas.

Braithwaite made his daily visit an hour later, glanced at the sleeping boy, and asked Madam Pomfrey if there were any problems. "None. He sleeps most of the time, of course." The potions had been modified the previous day, when it was noticed he was crying in his sleep. There was more of the mind-altering component now. A contented, dozy state was optimum. Anything less would have him trying to remove the blindfold, which was not advisable. Only three days to go if all went well, maybe a day more for prudence.

***x***

Katinka Taft watched her new lover as he walked across to the window. Gunther. She didn't know his second name. He was very tall, and strongly, beautifully built. As she watched, the early morning sunlight caught him, making him look a figure of gold. His hair was the oddest feature. Of a light ginger colour, no longer than two inches anywhere, and standing out from his head almost like a mane. The hairline didn't cease where a normal hairline did, but continued to grow from his neck, down to his shoulders, even past them, in a ridge of hair tracing halfway down his back. It was all very odd, but it was difficult to think about it much. Katinka felt sleepily content. Never had she been loved like that before.

So odd. Just a knock at the door, and this stranger was looking at her. Golden eyes. She hadn't hesitated a moment, just stepping back, tacitly inviting the stranger into her apartment and into her bed.

Gunther glanced back at the woman he'd chosen for a 'convenience.' He'd chosen her for her large breasts. He rather liked large breasts. He'd chosen her three days before as she walked past him at a Muggle shopping mall. He'd made the spell then, assuming he'd be successful locating her home. Katinka had stopped, fighting the impulse to put her hand to her lower abdomen at the sudden unpleasant, almost shrinking sensation. But one couldn't do that in public, and after a moment, the sensation had passed and she'd forgotten it. She would never connect that feeling with the fact that she was now infertile. The Muggle woman would not bear children to her Yusdu lover. She would not bear children for anyone.

Gunther stretched, thinking about his convenience. Katinka was satisfactory. There was also Hilde, and of course, he and his unmated Yusdu cousin shared sex on a regular basis. They were only five Yusdu of the forty-three cousins, he and Zondra the only unmated ones.

Gunther started dressing, moving with a catlike grace. Katinka watched, enthralled. Surely he was magical. She'd never felt anything like that before, though she was not inexperienced.

Gunther returned to her, caressed her cheek in an affectionate gesture, and said, "I'll come again the day after tomorrow. Same time. Be bathed and ready. No other lovers until I'm finished with you."

Katinka nodded, hypnotised, finally getting up the courage to ask, "How long? How long before you're finished with me?"

"Probably a year yet. I expect I'll want you for a little over one year."

Gunther's chosen partner was not quite fifteen. He'd been drawn to her straightaway, feeling her qualities with the instinct of Yusdu. She had a high degree of magical talent, and she had a force of character, high intelligence, and the promise of a strong, athletic build. Beauty as well. Only the best were the Chosen of Yusdu. She didn't know yet. She would know when she was sixteen and Gunther came for her.

Later that day, Gunther was one of the clan to attend the mid-Winter celebration. A young baby was displayed, her appearance checked, and approval displayed. Another Yusdu. There were other youngsters as well, all of them tall and well-built, all of them intelligent and of considerable magical power. There were none who appeared merely part Yusdu. The gene was either there, or it was not there.

Gunther's cousin was taking a lot of teasing. She was Yusdu, seventeen, and still hadn't selected a mate. She protested, "They run when they see me coming!"

Her mother laughed, "If you want someone, all you have to do is keep them still long enough to look at them. They can't help themselves."

Zondra smiled, "I have been practising. I went to the Auror headquarters a week ago. No-one tried to stop me, and I inspected the ones who showed themselves. I know I could have had any of them."

"So what are you looking for? You should have had your first child by now."

"I don't know exactly. Part of the problem is that the best ones are often related. I think I might do some travelling. Perhaps in France, even England."

Gunther chuckled, "You'd best work on your English then. It's pathetic."

"I will."

At nearly six feet tall, Zondra was full grown Yusdu, and she was magnificent. She had the same hair as Gunther, though there was only a fine tracing of hair down her neck and back, rather than the more pronounced mane of the males. For the past year, she'd been actively seeking her mate. She hadn't been celibate in that time. Aside from playing with Gunther, she'd tried a few Muggles. All Yusdu had strong sex drives. Even their more normal brothers and sisters seemed to share that trait. But sex was different from a Bonding. Not a ceremony, but when a Yusdu mated with the one chosen to be Bijn, it was different. Afterwards, they were Bijn Yusdu, inseparable until death. When one died, the other was not far behind.

***x***

Fiona Craig, who lived in a remote part of Ireland, was not nervous, even though she knew what she was, and what was in store. Her refuge was already prepared, a small but well-built set of rooms with its own bathroom and kitchenette. The small building stood alone to minimize damage, though there were high walls around. If word escaped, and too many wizards came running, her male relatives would try and keep too many from getting to her at once. The population density was very low in the area, and hardly any wizards within the fifty mile radius that her Call would be felt.

Her mother asked, "Seamus?"

Fiona shook her head decidedly, "I don't want Seamus."

"You haven't told him you're Hecatama, have you?"

"Of course not."

"Who do you want us to notify then?"

Fiona showed her a photograph of a boy with a mop of black hair, glasses, and a scar on his forehead. Moira shook her head, "I know he's famous, but he's younger than Seamus, and he's expected to die when he faces Voldemort."

"Seamus says that's nonsense. That he's powerful, knows magic that no other sixth year knows, and anyway, he says that Voldemort has at least left Britain and might even be dead."

"And just how would young Seamus know?"

"He says that Harry knows things."

Moira spoke in a scathing tone, "He _knows things._" She shook her head again, "I'm sorry, love. I want Harry to win and not die, as much as anyone. But you realise, if he Bonds with you, then gets killed by that monster, then so will you die. I don't want to lose you."

Fiona repeated stubbornly that she wanted Harry Potter, but only when she threatened to run away to find him, did her mother agree that she'd ask her father to try and arrange it for her.

Most Hecatema girls tried to arrange that particular men would be near. There were no guarantees, but at least that way they had the illusion they had some choice over who was to be their mate.

The Call was expected to begin in three weeks. The sign that it was imminent was when the budding Hecatema lost her magic. There were other signs that could be picked up by a particular monitor, and the healer was checking every week. A male healer, who broke his obligation to remain silent by telling his son, who lived in London. The son took a month's leave from his job. He'd need more if he won. A newly Bonded Hecatema was a full-time job to begin with, as she came to terms with her power.

James and Moira did their best to give the girl her choice of mate. Two other names of potential partners, in case Harry didn't come, or was hurt in the chase. There were other things to be thought of, and three wives had a hint that they should upgrade their marriage vows to Magical Bonds. Bonded men did not go running after Hecatemae. Two husbands complied, since they were over forty, and likely only to feel the Call in its nuisance category, if that. The other pointblank refused, secretly packed a small suitcase, and waited expectantly. A Hecatema! It was every man's dream to Bond a Hecatema. He even had a good idea who it was. The pretty daughter of the Craigs was almost the only Aniragi girl in the entire district. He had a good chance. Mildred? A marriage was instantly and automatically dissolved when a wizard Claimed a Hecatema.

James Craig found an unexpected difficulty in passing the message to Harry Potter. Albus Dumbledore was unyielding, stating that young Potter was ill and could not be disturbed. Fiona's father had to settle for passing on his daughter's letter, firmly believing that the headmaster could be trusted with it. People were very apt to believe Albus Dumbledore, even with information as sensitive as where to find a Hecatema.

The moment the man was gone, Dumbledore read the letter, and smiled. He was far too old himself, of course, but favours owed... He looked back at the letter, a teenage girl's awkward letter to a boy she didn't know. He supposed the girl was home-schooled, since she wasn't one of his students. There were detailed directions. He tucked the letter away and looked again at the directions.

Not long later, he was negotiating with an influential friend, who had a son of the right age. It was to be a Wizard's Debt. The friend laughed when he heard Dumbledore say casually that he expected not to be prosecuted for any misdemeanour that might be uncovered. He was Albus Dumbledore, the symbol of the Light, the next thing to a god in their world. What misdemeanours could Albus Dumbledore possibly commit?

Harry half woke from dreams of a Quidditch match, somehow in slow motion. There was a voice, gently, patiently, repeating that he had to fulfil his destiny. He had a job to do. He turned to the voice, becoming disturbed. How _dare _the bastard? He was helpless, and he was trying to take advantage. His anger burgeoned, and he called loudly, "Madam Pomfrey!"

Dumbledore, startled, sat back in his chair and was silent. The nurse bustled in.

Harry tried to grab his racing thoughts and state his complaint in a coherent fashion, but instead babbled, "He has to stay away from me! Keep him away! Where's Mick?"

Madam Pomfrey grabbed his wrist, trying to calm him, and said urgently, "Nothing is wrong, Harry. It's just the headmaster, come to see you."

"Get him away! He can't see me now!"

"Harry..."

Dumbledore stood up, shaking his head, "You are perfectly all right, Harry. I came to see you, that's all."

"Keep away from me! I don't trust you!"

"Go back to sleep, Harry. There is nothing wrong."

Harry stared at him, knowing exactly where he was, in spite of the blindfold. He was almost panting, afraid and angry. The bastard, messing with his mind! Pomfrey said briskly, "Please wait with him, headmaster. I need to collect some potion."

Harry raised himself in the bed, and when Dumbledore put a would-be gentling hand on his shoulder, hissed, "Get away from me!"

Dumbledore stood back, watching him, irritated. The boy should not have woken. It was only a half hour since the last potion. His words were supposed to penetrate through his sleep.

Harry stood up, staggering. Was it day or night? He called, "Mick?"

Snape appeared, looking at the headmaster questioningly.

Dumbledore shook his head, "He became upset."

Snape said, "I can calm him. Maybe it would be best if you came back later, Headmaster."

Harry's hand went to his blindfold, but hesitated. He very well remembered that he must not touch that. But Snape was supposed to look after him, not tell the old bastard to come back. He said, "I want Mick. Where's Mick? Or an Auror. I was promised there would be Aurors."

Snape asked, "Kingsley, Harry? Would Kingsley do?"

Madam Pomfrey returned, glass of potion in hand. Snape said, "He's asked to speak to Kingsley first, Poppy. "I'll have him take the potion just as soon as he sees Kingsley. Albus, he may be irrational, but you seem to be disturbing him. Do you think...?"

Dumbledore said, in a kind voice that hid his anger, "I will leave then. We don't want the boy disturbed, of course." Harry breathed a sigh of relief when he felt that the headmaster was no longer close.

Madam Pomfrey returned, a confused Kingsley in tow. He'd never had the impression that the boy liked him much. Harry sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered, trying to collect his thoughts.

Snape said clearly, "Kingsley is here now, Harry. Do you want to ask him something."

Harry agreed, and tried to remember what he wanted to say. Right now he only wanted to go back to sleep.

Snape prompted, "Harry?"

Harry shook his head, and said, "Kingsley. You're supposed to protect me, aren't you?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt had a deep and reassuring voice, which he now used. "You're not expected to need protection. We're here mostly to make you feel safe."

"I want protection. Please never leave me alone with the headmaster. He was taking advantage, messing with my mind. Please protect me from Albus Dumbledore." There. That was clear enough, wasn't it?

The big Auror stood there, looking totally confused. Harry carefully lay himself down, and turned on his side. He could sleep now. Snape was there, and Kingsley would surely do as he asked. Snape said, "It's important he be kept calm, Kingsley. I think you should agree to what he wants, whether or not you think he knows what he's saying."

"He accused Dumbledore of messing with his mind."

"Yes."

Kingsley sat beside Harry, and asked, "How was Dumbledore messing with your mind, Harry?" Harry didn't answer, and Kingsley repeated his question in a firmer tone.

Harry mumbled, "Telling me... He uses Mind-Magic, y'know. Not fair."

Kingsley thought about it, and finally said, "You will not be left alone with him again." After all, whether it was true or not, it was definitely true that Harry had been disturbed by the old wizard, and the boy must not be disturbed. They all knew that.

Snape wondered why he hadn't realised it years before. Obvious when he thought about it.

The next time that Dumbledore sat down beside Harry, the Auror didn't move. Dumbledore said, in his most persuasive voice, "You can leave now, Stewart. I am here, and he's perfectly safe with me."

Harry jumped at the voice, and lay tense. Stewart said carefully, "I'm terribly sorry, Headmaster, but there are strict orders that an Auror be by his side at all times."

Dumbledore exerted his magic, "Quite unnecessary, you know. Please leave us."

Harry turned his head to Stewart and waited. Stewart averted his eyes from that of the headmaster and said firmly, "I'm afraid not, Headmaster." They'd been warned of the possibility, and suddenly he was convinced. The old bastard! How long had he been doing that? Dumbledore patted Harry on the shoulder, and retreated.

Harry sighed, and said, "Thank you, Stewart."

Stewart nodded, "Any time."

The six days were up, and Harry argued with Healer Braithwaite. "You said six days."

"Six days if all went well. From all reports you were fairly thoroughly disturbed. Enough that you were irrationally frightened."

Harry was silent. He certainly didn't want to risk a poor result by demanding results too quickly. And he had been disturbed, very disturbed. He'd wanted to blast the old headmaster to cinders, though he almost always managed to control his temper these days. He asked, "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow we'll make a thorough assessment, and we'll see."

The following day, Harry was beaming. Both Braithwaite and Vanden were there, and he could see perfectly! He kept putting his hand to his face. It seemed to him that he _had_ to be wearing his glasses. He'd worn them every day since his school had insisted on him having an eye check. He'd been five, nearly six. Before then, he'd simply assumed that blurry was normal. New glasses not long before his eleventh birthday, but he thought that was the last money his uncle and aunt had ever spent on him. Since then, magic had sufficed to ensure the frames still fitted. The prescription had never been re-checked. He could see _better_ than he had before!

He shook his head, "It's amazing. I don't know how to thank you."

Vanden said seriously, "Thank me by dealing with He Who Must Not Be Named."

"_He Who Must Not Be Named._ What a mouthful! But rest assured, if Voldemort turns up, I'll deal with him the best I'm able."

The undertaking would not stop Vanden from sending his usual exorbitant account. His specialised skills were not cheap. Vanden smiled, "No physical exertion for three more days, and don't tire yourself for a further week."

"Yes, Sir."

Dumbledore stood by, and asked, "Well, are you going to thank me for it, my boy?"

"Of course, Sir. Thank you for making the arrangements."

The healers left, and Dumbledore said, "Not afraid to be alone with me now, Harry?"

Harry put on a puzzled face, "I beg your pardon?"

"I was with you one day, and you were upset for some reason."

"I don't remember that." It was still the same as it had been all year, better not to be too obviously aware that the headmaster was untrustworthy. Considering the heavy dosage of pacifying potions, a loss of memory was believable. Harry felt the pleased relief of the headmaster, and wondered whether he was imagining it. He still didn't want to work on any possible talent for telepathy.

Harry could leave the Hospital Wing now, and again ate his meals with the few remaining teachers. He grinned at Hagrid's enquiries, and claimed that without glasses, he was far more handsome, and would undoubtedly have girls clamouring to be his new girlfriend.

Mick said, surprised, "Tracey?"

"She's not returning. She sent me a letter." He'd miss her, but admitted to himself that having a girlfriend who was promised to someone else would have been awkward for him, even if Tracey had appeared to think it perfectly feasible.

Dumbledore again sat across from him, his eyes twinkling and his expression benign. Harry took little notice of him. He wasn't afraid of him normally.

Dumbledore finally said, "I was right, wasn't I, Harry? About the advisability of having your vision corrected."

Harry asked directly, "So why didn't you allow me to see a specialist when I was eleven?"

Dumbledore hesitated. It was because it had suited his purposes at the time to have the orphan look defenceless, appealing to mothers everywhere. He could hardly say that.

Harry, perhaps unwisely, pressed, "Well, Sir?"

Dumbledore took refuge in an air of mystery, "Things are sometimes a lot more complex than children understand."

Harry's reply had a distinct air of irony, "Of course, Sir. You could not expect a child to understand such things."

Snape intervened smoothly, suavely, "Can I expect some improvement in your Potions recognition skills now, Potter?"

Harry grinned at him, perfectly cheerfully, "Probably not, Sir. But you have to admit that I haven't blown anything up for years now."

"What about the minor catastrophe in the storeroom?"

Harry chuckled, "Forgot that, S... Sir." The stutter was because he'd nearly said Severus, or even Sev. He'd have to be more careful.

Mick asked, curious, "Minor catastrophe?"

"Very minor. A touch messy, that's all."

Dumbledore was still irritated with the boy. That was not the first time he'd implied a lack of faith in his judgement. Indeed, he hadn't been very docile since his return. Maybe he'd best go carefully. He should do a little planning before he raised the subject of an interview and photographs, maybe an incentive.

At the following dinner, Professor Trelawney sat down with the small group, though taking little part in the conversation. Over coffee, Dumbledore said, "There has been another prophecy concerning you, Harry. Sybil, the words please."

Trelawney put on her best eery voice, _"__And the Marked Child of Light will be the hope of all. It is hope that will win the battle against the Dark. He does not stand alone." _

Harry shrugged, and said casually, "The _Marked_ Child of Light, that's a new one. Personally, I like the prophecy that says I'll live to a fine old age, though I'm really not sure about the three wives and eighteen children!"

Mick asked, surprised, "Who made that one?"

"Ron did, in Divination last year. It got zero marks. Professor Trelawney always prefers the ones where I meet a gruesome death. Me and Ron had a good time devising those yarns."

Mick was smirking, Snape would have liked to, and Flitwick frankly laughed.

Professor McGonnagal said disapprovingly, "This is very serious, Harry. It is not a subject for flippancy."

Harry finished his coffee with an air of finality, and said, "Divination is bunkum. Prophecies are food for the credulous."

Professor Trelawney rose from the table, and in a shaking voice, said, "Really!"

McGonnagal said sternly, "Your insolence will get you into real trouble one day, Mr. Potter."

As a matter of form, Harry apologised, but then turned to Dumbledore, "What do you want of me, Sir?"

"The Child of Light is to provide hope. You are to provide hope, and our world will be behind you. It was a severe blow to all of us when you ran away last year." His expression became more kindly, his voice more gentle. "Not that I blame you, my boy. Anyone can become frightened. But people despaired, you see. Without you, there is no hope that the Darkness will lift. You are needed."

"There hasn't actually been much darkness lately, has there? Maybe he's retired from the Evil Dark Lord business. Maybe he lives in a unit by the sea and plays with his cat."

Snape couldn't help himself. He laughed, after a moment joined by the others with the marked exceptions of Trelawney and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore said, "Yes, yes, laughter is a fine thing. But this is not the time for levity." He fixed his eyes on Harry, "On Monday afternoon, the first Duelling session after the other students return, there is to be a photographer and a reporter. You are to give full cooperation, and you are to assure the reporter that you are able and willing to face your destiny, and defeat Voldemort." He was using all the force of his personality, and weaving his most effective Mind-Magic.

Harry smiled sweetly at the headmaster, and said, "No."

Dumbledore actually sat back in his chair, mouth agape.

Harry kindly clarified for him. "I will not give any interview, I have no intention of posing for photographs, and quite absolutely, I will not go after Voldemort."

There was a brief silence. Snape said quietly, "He might come after you again, of course, Potter."

Mick asked, "In that case, Harry, what will you do?"

"If Voldemort comes after me? Defend myself as best as I'm able, of course. That's a different thing."

Dumbledore was still silent, not quite knowing what to do. This direct defiance from a student was not something he'd encountered before. He finally said, "I guess then, I'd best send you back to the Dursleys. Maybe your Uncle Vernon will know how to deal with you."

It was an empty threat, and Harry knew it. He stood, "Excuse me. I have to try and catch up on some assignments. I'm behind."

Mick said, "I'll see you later, Harry." Mick was supposed to give protection and company to Harry while he was alone. He slept in Seamus's bed, closest to the door. Harry didn't mind. He liked Mick. He snored, but lightly, like Ron. Harry had slept to the sound of Ron's gentle snoring for years now, and found the sound soothing.

***x***

A week into January, Hermione wordlessly handed over a newspaper to Harry. Harry frowned at the front-page picture of himself, half crouched, eyes seeming to blaze, wand at the ready. Hermione said, "According to the screed, it says the photograph is not posed, but was taken from the animated Duelling Target. There's more pictures inside." A whole double page of pictures, as well as interviews with Dumbledore. The Chosen One was ready. It was only a matter of time. The defeat of the Dark Lord would happen the moment that he dared to face the Boy Who Lived.

Harry carefully folded the paper and put it down. Ginny came past, patted him on the back, and said, "You never looked so absolutely sexy!"

Harry stared at her incredulously, and then laughed. Sexy!

Mrs. Weasley studied the newspaper, and read every word. Her last son, grown up and ready to face his destiny. She hadn't even seen him since the Hogwarts train at the beginning of the summer, though he'd sent her a sweet note of apology after he'd been returned to Hogwarts. The official word had been that he'd spent the summer 'in training,' but Molly Weasley had seen Dumbledore's anger and worry. She was sure that the poor little orphan had simply found it all too much, and run away. But he'd come back. How could he not come back? He had the courage of his father and of his mother. She not only saved the newspaper, she sent for the special offer - framed copies of photographs 1, 3 and 5.

Lavender Brown showed it to her favourite teacher, who sighed, "Poor dear boy. He will defeat the Dark Lord, but he'll die doing it. I had hoped... but Seer McCardle is never wrong."

Lavender smacked her across the face and stalked out of the room. Professor Trelawney was no longer her favourite teacher.

Stephanie Caruthers said, "Yes, but Heather, what if I get too fond of him? They say he's going to die."

"You're a Slytherin. Enjoy him for what he offers you, and make sure _not_ to get too fond of him."

"I saw him talking to some of the Hufflepuff girls earlier."

"They say that Tracey just up and asked him. And maybe he thinks he'd best make the most of life before it ends."

If Harry wasn't quite that pessimistic, he still didn't hesitate when Stephanie made her offer. It didn't stop him talking to the Hufflepuff girls. He liked Susan, and he liked Hannah very much. She was sweet and modest, loyal and kind. She had brains enough, but no special beauty. Light brown hair, rather a round face, and a rounded body that he'd like to touch. Just that he didn't think that Hannah approved of casual sex, whereas he approved of it very much.

***x***

Moira Craig spoke to the Hecatema she called Aunt Vivienne, "Can't you come and reassure her? She's terrified."

Vivienne shook her head. "I can't reassure her. My own nightmares began the moment you told me. It's why I never had any children of my own, you see."

Moira said, "It can't be so bad, surely. You're very old by normal standards, and look maybe in your thirties. That's because you're Hecatema, and you love Dario, who's also been given a long life because of you. I know that the beginning must have been hard, but surely your life since has made up for it."

Vivienne shook her head, "I'll come afterwards. I can't see her now. It would only make her more frightened."

"She asked for Harry Potter, but he hasn't answered her letter."

"Harry Potter. I asked for him once, too. I wanted to adopt him when his parents were killed, but Dumbledore would not allow it. He said he needed special protection."

Moira smiled, "Better protection than offered by a Hecatema and her Soul Mate?"

"He was vague, implying that he knew things I didn't know. He's not to be trusted, you know."

"He's not?"

"I'm Hecatema. I see a person's aura, and Dumbledore's is run through with brown. That means deceitfulness."

Fiona's magic failed later that day. Her mother settled her in the small building and spoke in as calm a voice as she could manage. "What will happen is that when you start to Call, and you yourself can't feel that, your Hecatema magic puts shields up, all around the external wall. That's so that only the most powerful wizards can break them down. You will have the best."

Fiona sat on the bed, looking at the floor.

Moira offered, "If you still want Harry, I'll write again."

"I want him. Did you see the picture in the paper? I want him."

"He's certainly better looking than he used to be. But there is one thing you can be sure of. Whether it's Harry or someone else, he will be a good and a powerful wizard, and you will be very happy with him."

"Mum, I'm scared."

"True love's first kiss, and you will have your Soul Mate. That's the way it is for Hecatemae."

Fiona spoke as if by rote. She'd heard it many times. "And in the next few days, I will see the world in a new way, and he'll help me deal with it." That part of her fate was clear, and not nearly as frightening as that mysterious 'Call' that men felt, that would bring wizards running. And then the euphemism of _Love's First Kiss. _

Moira hung a selection of light and gauzy white gowns in the wardrobe. No firm fitting jeans, or even underwear. The quicker the rape was over, the better, and then her daughter could be happy again. The pretty gowns were to put a veneer of romance on the sordid process. Fiona was not much fooled. Moira added a few romance novels. Fiona had enjoyed those once. She looked around. "There's food in the fridge. You don't need to stay here tonight if you don't want to, but tomorrow, you must. You'll want the solitude, and your father and I don't want our home wrecked."

Fiona stared at her, eyes wide open, "Wrecked?"

Moira cursed herself for the slip. Property was damaged, and wizards injured and killed when wizards fought each other to get to a Hecatema, but she didn't want to emphasize the desperate violence of those who lusted after the girl. Instead she said, "Men are a little careless sometimes. Surely you've noticed."

"I guess." Fiona looked around, and sighed, "I might as well stay here now."

Moira kissed her, "Good girl." But when her mother left her, Fiona sobbed her heart out on the bed. Why couldn't she have been ordinary?

Late the following day, her father went to visit, and found his daughter's door magically barred to him. It had started. He and two male cousins took their vantage points. They would not feel the Call, but could reduce the risk of more than one man trying to mate her at once. Hecatemae were killed sometimes. Inside, Fiona felt calmer. She didn't know it had started, just that she felt as if she was where she had to be, that things were as they had to be. If she was not mated within two weeks, she would die.

***x***


	10. Chapter 10

_Ownership__: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, many fanfiction authors have written of Marriage Bonds, Wizard Debts, and the characteristics of Veela, and the Hecatema belongs to Beren. _

_**Chapter 10:**___

Friday morning, and Harry was having difficulty eating his breakfast for the procession of owls delivering letters. It had started the day before, most of the letters encouraging, a few disparaging, and some abusive. There was one thing in which they were unanimous. They all assumed it was up to him to relieve the world of the presence of Voldemort.

One was a red envelope. Harry frowned at it, annoyed, and Seamus said, resigned, "You might as well open it. You know Howlers can't be destroyed."

Harry pointed his wand, uttered a word, and the envelope turned to harmless ashes. He grinned at Seamus, "Want to bet?"

"How did you do that?"

"I'm not quite sure, but it seems to have worked. Maybe I should just do the lot. I doubt if there's any I actually want to read."

Hermione said, "I'll help if you like, Harry. You don't want to miss anything important." A few others volunteered, and Colin Creevey started to call the owls to him. Harry helped himself to some more cereal, since his first bowl had been spilled by an excited owl.

Neville puzzled over one, and then handed it to Harry, "You might like to read this one, Harry. But remember, it could be a trap."

Harry studied the letter from Moira Craig. It didn't sound like a trap. It sounded like a very anxious mother, and there was the reference to a previous letter delivered a few weeks before. He handed it to Hermione, "Genuine, do you think?"

Hermione read it, and sighed, "I believe it's genuine. But you can't go anyway, can you?"

"I guess not. And besides, I don't think I like the idea very much."

Ron asked, "What?" He looked over the letter, and said, "Cool! Have you got the directions?"

Harry laughed, "I don't remember her asking for you."

"If you don't want her, I do. Hecatemae are invariably beautiful, and they give a man incredible sex. Everyone knows that."

Hermione abruptly stood from the table, wand pointed at Ron's groin. Ron went quite pale and firmly shut his mouth. Hermione held her threat for long enough that he might remember, before putting away her wand.

There was a sudden cheer from the Slytherin table, and the news, in excited tones, "Vayden's brother won a Hecatema. In Ireland."

Harry glanced again at his letter. Ireland. And there had been a previous letter, left with the headmaster. For the first time, he stared at Dumbledore, wanting to know what he was thinking. There came to him the feeling of a pleased satisfaction, and the thought of favours owed. Harry said quietly, "The poor girl sends me a letter, and the old bastard takes it and sells the information to someone else. I wonder if it can be proven."

Hermione said, puzzled, "The old bastard? Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore. He's a manipulative and deceitful man, Hermione. And always, every time, he does exactly what suits him."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

Harry put the letter in his pocket, "I might, this time."

He didn't know whether he would even have gone chasing off after the Hecatema, but in any case, she was taken. Vayden's brother. Why would he have been in a remote corner of Ireland if he hadn't been in the know?

Linley Carlyle, Vayden's brother, caressed the dark, curly hair of the girl who lay cradled in his arms. He'd won! He'd been on the spot, the extra shield-breaking tuition had stood him in good stead, and now he was Soul Mate to a Hecatema. Just an hour from the instant he'd felt the raging Call in his blood, to Bonding her. He'd only seen one other wizard close, and he'd been wandering around, obviously with some idea where to look, but not knowing, as he had known. And now he could feel her in his head as well as on his shoulder. Her almost drugged slumber. It was in the literature, that a Hecatema would be as if tranquillised for the first day or two, before she discovered a raging appetite for sex, and then the new powers started developing. She could be overwhelmed if it was not for the Soul Mate, who somehow knew, as if by instinct, exactly how to help her cope.

Harry penned a careful letter to Moira Craig, saying that he was grateful that Fiona had thought of him, but that he hadn't had time to respond, as he hadn't received the first letter. He hoped that Fiona would be very happy with Linley. If Mrs. Craig wanted to pursue the matter of why Fiona's letter hadn't reached him, she could do so. He was willing to try and take action if she believed that the misdirection had been deliberate.

Harry forgot that he would have had to force the Bond on the girl, and instead dwelled only on the thought of a close and loving Soul Bond. A girl whom he could love, far closer than any normal love. What did it matter if he died if she died? For a love like that, it would surely be worthwhile. After all, he'd nearly died when Voldemort died, and Voldemort had caused him agony.

As soon as opportunity offered, late that evening, Harry showed Moira's letter to Snape. Snape read it carefully, and Harry said bitterly, "I never received the first letter. I could have had it again, all of the good, and none of the bad. Dumbledore stole from me."

Snape said mildly, "I thought you said you couldn't rape."

Harry got up and paced restlessly back and forth across the room, "She asked for me. It's something I _need_, Severus. And he sold the information to the Carlyles, he must have done."

"Yes, very likely. I don't know what can be done about it."

"Complain of course, it's against the law to interfere with someone's personal mail."

"He can argue that you had to be kept here. No-one will disagree, not when five Aurors were sent to retrieve you. Not when a lot of money has been spent on extra facilities to train you."

"Selling the information then? I'm sure I read that information about a Hecatema is strictly limited."

"Unprovable."

Harry stared at his mentor, frustrated, and finally snapped, "Maybe I should just go and challenge _Dumbledore _to a duel. What would happen then?"

Snape laughed and Harry glared, then abruptly swung away and left the office. Snape half-stood to stop him, but was too late. He reassured himself. The boy might have been talking recklessly, but he wasn't stupid.

It was after dark, after curfew, and very cold. Harry snapped a spell at the bars of a window on the ground floor, forgetting to use his wand. The bars fell out onto the ground, and Harry slipped through the opened window. Only when he collected his broomstick from the locker near the Quidditch pitch, did he realise what he'd done. He'd have to practise that - using magic without a wand, more than the occasional flaring up of the fire, or opening a door when his hands were full. And maybe, if he was developing that degree of power, he could do other things others couldn't do. _Surely,_ he could escape, if he chose.

It was a clear night, full moon. The settled snow was covered with a sheen of ice, very slippery, and almost glowing in the moonlight. The shadows, on the other hand, were very dark. Harry went to the place he'd made his own. A quiet place, deep into the forest, as far from the castle as he could get. Then he tried to disapparate. He couldn't do it. He tried from a different spot, methodically, from one place after another. Each anti-apparation spell could only cover a limited area, but spells were overlapping. Harry didn't expect to find a weak spot, but knew he wouldn't sleep that night in any case.

It was after midnight when it actually worked. Harry stared around at his new surroundings, very surprised, then quickly backed away from the gates of Hogwarts. He should have thought more carefully about where it was prudent to apparate _to. _No point having the guards see him now. Once hidden again, a delighted smile spread across his face. The disapparation point had been beside a tangle of branches and a brook, a little too close to the home of the Acromantula Colony. He thought carefully about the exact spot, and reappeared there. Then again, he disapparated, this time appearing at the Shrieking Shack. If a figure was seen there, no-one would investigate.

He checked his pockets. No money, not a penny. But he was luckily in casual Muggle clothing, and he didn't feel like a tame return, not just yet. One could apparate to a known spot, or one could use apparation coordinates to go to an unknown spot. Harry didn't have an apparation map, but he knew the seaside town in Devon and he knew the area near his relatives' home. Devon was outside apparation range, but he used a spot near Privet Drive like a stepping stone. Then Devon, on the beach. The wind roared and he shivered, realising that that had been a very silly idea. Really best to go straight home and go to bed. Instead, he conjured himself a clumsy looking cloak, and started to walk back into town before changing his mind. Wasn't there a shallow cave? With a warming charm, he could survive the cold. And in the morning, he'd go and see Hermann.

Neville shook Ron awake. "It's three o'clock, and he's not back."

"Probably with Stephanie, that's all. Go to sleep."

"He's always back by now."

Dean said, "Be quiet, you two."

"Harry's missing."

Dean said, exasperated, "So he's with Stephanie, or maybe Malene. I noticed him looking at Malene."

Neville said quietly, "He's been brooding all day. I don't think he's with a girl."

Ron yawned and sat up, "I'll come. We'll check in the Duelling Room."

"He doesn't take Stephanie there. I don't know where he goes."

"We'll try the basements first, then. He says there are good places there."

"Where do you and Hermione go?"

Ron spoke in a disgruntled tone, "We have no need for a totally private place - so she says. I'm thinking of trying Lavender."

Neville gave him a sympathetic touch on the shoulder, but his mind was still on Harry, and he asked, "What do you think we should do if we can't find him?"

"He'd kill us if he's found a way out and we tell on him."

Severus Snape also prowled the corridors, wondering if he'd find Harry. It would not be the first time he found him in the middle of the night, usually sitting alone in one of the common sitting rooms. He paused in front of the open window, noticing its missing bars, wondering if Harry had used it to slip out. When he saw the two boys approaching, he stepped back, unobserved. The boys, too, paused at the window, and he heard Ron say that it appeared he'd gone outside.

Neville said, "Makes me wish I had a tracking charm on him."

"What did he do with the last one?"

"He said he transferred it to Mrs. Norris."

Snape remembered. Dumbledore had been livid. As far as he knew, he'd given up on tracking charms.

Ron said, resigned, "No point worrying about him. We might as well go back to bed." Snape concluded it was a good idea. Harry was a very competent wizard for his age. He'd turn up.

At dawn, Harry walked swiftly along the beach, breaking into a run once the night-time stiffness receded. It was good at the beach, always changing, always the same. He loved the beach. He thought he might settle here one day.

Shortly after nine, he walked through the town, stomach rumbling at the smells of breakfasts being served. Fast foods. What wouldn't he give for a plate of the hottest, greasiest, saltiest fast food the town had to offer? And he'd only missed one meal.

Hermann looked puzzled at the youth who greeted him, and suddenly exclaimed, "Harry? Is it you?"

Harry grinned, "It's me. I came to say hello and thanks."

"Working out?"

"No time today. I have to go back before I'm missed."

Hermann shook his head, "I remembered you as the most pathetic object I've ever seen in here."

"I took a great deal of notice of your advice. I plan to reach six feet."

Hermann laughed, "I don't think so, somehow."

"Five feet, nine?"

"Now that may be achievable. Not that exercise has a great deal to do with height."

Harry glanced at a group beginning to assemble, and said, "Your class is waiting."

Hermann beamed at him, "I'm glad you dropped in."

"I fully plan to return next summer. I love it here."

"I look forward to seeing you."

Harry raised a hand, "Two inches taller by July, you'll see."

Hermann grinned after the boy, and wondered just what the illness was that had left him so stunted and malnourished. If only he didn't have a relapse.

Harry wasn't at all sure what he wanted to do next. Staying around here might be risky if anyone knew of his escape, and trying to access his money at Gringott's would probably be worse. In the end, he tackled the hills he hadn't been strong enough to climb in the summer. No snow here. It was just cold and windy.

Snape didn't always eat at the staff table, but had been there for breakfast. Harry wasn't present, but Snape gave a sigh of relief when he walked in, perfectly normally, for lunch. Mick commented, "Neville said he had a bad night again. He wasn't at PT."

"He does look a little tired."

"He admitted to me once that he quite often didn't sleep well."

Hermione greeted Harry with relief, and ordered him to tell them where he was at all times. Harry said, "I'll warn you when I'm going to be out overnight. Will that do?"

Hermione sighed, "That'll do."

Ron asked, "Did you stun the guards or anything."

Harry spoke for their ears only, "No, but I found an unexpected way out. I'm starving, though. I had no money on me for food or shelter."

Ron asked, "Did you see your summer helper?"

"What do you know about a summer helper?"

"Dad hinted at something, and then shut up."

Harry grinned, "They think I traded sex for food."

Ron stared, "A man?"

"The mere hint that they might have been right was enough to make them stop asking questions. The Child of Light reduced to prostitution? What a thought!"

Hermione gave him an uneasy look, and Harry said, "Don't fret, Hermione. There was nothing like that."

Hermione said prissily, "I never thought there was."

"So where did you go?"

"I had trouble going anywhere. Next time, I'll take an App. Map."

"You can apparate?"

"I learned a lot last summer."

That he could escape when he chose put Harry in a much better mood. And he hadn't really wanted a Hecatema - he didn't think. Even on Monday when there were pictures of Fiona Craig and Linley Carlyle in the newspaper, he wasn't disturbed.

Seamus was, loudly complaining that he hadn't he been told. "Fiona!" He kept saying. "I never knew. She lives half a mile down the road!"

Ron said, "She sent a letter to Harry, she wanted him."

Seamus grizzled, "Why not me? I always liked her."

Hermione asked, "What about Susan? I thought you liked Susan."

"Hermione, Fiona's Hecatema!"

"So?"

Seamus stared at her as if she was stupid. "Hecatema! The best sex in the world!"

Hermione said, clearly and quite loudly, "If you boys put a little more effort into _providing_ good sex, you might _get_ better sex!"

The boys looked at each other and shut up. Girls never understood about Hecatemae.

***x***

Zondra Vardrier sat across from her father, who asked testily, "No-one to suit you in France, either?"

"I even found and inspected the ones who were hiding from me. And I didn't fancy any of them."

"You checked out the Aurors, of course. They're usually the most likely."

"I checked them, and I hung around at the bank for a day, and both of the main Aniragias."

Her mother asked, "So what exactly do you want? _More _than powerful and handsome?"

"I don't know exactly what I want, but one of the Aurors gave me this."

She spread out the copy of the Daily Prophet, Harry's picture on the front. Her mother studied it, and said, "He does look quite tempting in that first picture, but look at the group picture. He's _small!"_

"I wouldn't mind that, but anyway, he's only sixteen. He might grow."

"So go inspect him. See if you want him."

"There's a bigger problem. They say he's destined to fight Lord Voldemort. No-one fights Voldemort and survives."

Her parents glanced at each other. They knew of Voldemort. Her mother said, "Italy. Maybe you'd best try Italy next."

"Yes... I might just work on my English. You never know."

***x***

Harry studied the App. Map, and then went to McGonnagal, and asked if it could be arranged to have some more money out of his account. He thought it prudent not to ask for Muggle money, and when McGonnagal suspiciously asked what he needed money for, said that Ron was to buy a few things for him next time he went to Hogsmeade. It was easy enough to change money in Hogsmeade. McGonnagal sniffed, but it was his own money, after all, and she organised the amount requested. The following Saturday, Ron and Hermione spent in Hogsmeade, and on Sunday, immediately after PT, Harry went to Edinburgh. Freedom. Voldemort was gone, he was young, healthy and free. Harry told himself he was very happy. It was certainly good to be away from school.

He didn't bother closing his curtains that night. He was fully recovered and there would be no bad dreams. Neville gently shook him awake in the early hours of the morning. Harry's face was wet from his tears. He sat up and looked around, still feeling the acute sadness of his dream. Neville said firmly, "I'll make you a hot chocolate, and when you go back to sleep, you might have better dreams."

Harry reached for his dressing gown. Ron still snored, but Dean was looking at him. Harry muttered an apology.

Neville studied his friend as Harry stared into the fire in the common room. Harry glanced up and told him again to go to bed. He was fine.

"In a little while. I want you to tell me why you're unhappy. You don't talk to anyone, and you should."

Harry cast a glance at him, and looked back into his steaming mug of chocolate.

Neville said patiently, "It's not because of the Hecatema, is it? You've been miserable since you came back."

Harry shook his head, "I'm mostly perfectly happy. I have a great deal of fun. I enjoy the subjects I'm doing, and I'm working towards what I want."

"So why do you cry in your sleep?"

"I don't cry in my sleep. Hardly ever."

"You often cry in your sleep. Just that mostly you don't wake up."

Harry gave him a startled look, and said, a little resentfully, "I'll put Silencing Charms on the bed-curtains again. I didn't realise."

"Are you sorry you killed him?"

Harry shook his head, "I had to kill him. So that I could live, and so that he'd stop hurting and killing people."

"Then what? I don't understand."

"I don't properly understand myself."

"Hermione said that she thinks it was like a Soul Bond, and that maybe it nearly killed you when it broke."

Harry nodded, "It was months ago. I should be over it by now."

"Is that what happened?"

"Pretty much. There was someone there to help me. I was not alone."

"Would you have died if you had been alone?"

"Yes."

Harry knew that he would have died. His living on when his brother was dead was an aberration. Really, he should not be alive when he was only half a person. His mind torn and a piece missing. _Would _another person fill the void? Maybe he was being very shallow, thinking that if only he made a new bond, he would be whole again. It was that particular bond he'd lost. What if he'd tried to _talk _to Tom? What if they could have been like brothers? Maybe it's why Tom had become irrational, because his own mind was torn.

Something of his thoughts showed on his face, and Neville was beginning to be a lot more worried than he'd been in the beginning. He said in a light tone, "Tracey helped you, and Stephanie helps."

Harry suddenly looked up and grinned, "Don't tell anyone, but it was Stephanie and Heather both, the other night. It was incredible!"

Neville asked, "What if you looked for a girl whom you could really care about? Seems to me you don't have a scrap of feeling for those Slytherins."

"They do it because they want me to stay around. I told them that I reckoned he was dead, but I didn't argue too hard. They gave me a wonderful time."

"Well, as a would-be Healer, I'll make my first recommendation. Ask a nice girl out, and look for romance instead of mere sex."

Harry laughed, "Sex is not _mere_, Neville. Sex is never _mere!"_

Neville grinned, "Feeling better, then?"

Harry rose, "You're a good friend, Nev."

But when he went back to bed, he closed the curtains, and put the Silencing Charm on.

***x***

Professor Landen tossed an assignment on Harry's desk, and said, "A fail. I think your conceit ran away with you, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked closely at the marked questions, and agreed. Maybe it had. On the other hand, he was now with the fourth years, and he hadn't failed by more than a mark or two. Landen said, "And you want an OWL in this subject for this year. You're very optimistic."

"Yes, Sir." He was going to have it, too. His OWL exam would not be marked by Landen, and that would help. He'd devote more time to his work, and less time to self-pity. One could work around holes.

Snape looked up that evening at the knock on his office door. Harry? He wasn't expecting anyone else, and Harry had been eyeing him during the Potions class. He used his usual dry tone, "Enter!"

Harry opened the door, glanced around to check they were alone, closed the door, and said, "Hi, Severus."

Snape smiled slightly, "You've found a way out."

Harry jumped, "How did you know?"

Snape chuckled, "Don't worry. As far as I know, no other teacher noticed your absence. Are you going to tell me how?"

Harry grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye, "You might feel impelled to remedy the flaw in the castle's defences."

Snape said smoothly, "You'd best not tell me then."

"Do you want any more bits from the Baselisk? And I found some Unicorn hair."

He fished in his pocket, and produced an envelope. Snape accepted it, very pleased, and remarked, "Are you going to pay off your debt in Potions ingredients?"

"If you want. I was tempted to kill one of those hideous giant spiders the other day, only that Hagrid might have been upset."

"So your way out is through the Forbidden Forest."

"I can't see any need to have giant spiders in the world. I was wondering if you knew a spell so they couldn't reproduce. If they gradually died out, then Hagrid would probably accept it. After all, they must be very inbred."

"Won't Hermione research it for you?"

"If she thought I was going anywhere near them, she'd throw a fit!"

"And I won't?"

"Well, you haven't."

Snape was amused, "I guess I trust that you can cope."

"I am _extremely_ careful. I'd hate to be pulled to pieces by spiders!"

"I'll give it some thought."

Harry admitted, "There is something else, if you're willing."

"Yes?"

"Apparating with a passenger. Is it difficult?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I want to take a girl out. And I'd be caught in an instant if I just took her to Hogsmeade."

"How about you come to my place in the Easter break, and I'll teach you then?"

Harry smiled in pleasure, "The Easter break sounds good, but the teaching is more urgent than that."

"What then?"

"I could meet you outside somewhere, maybe."

"Taking a passenger is not difficult. Just that you have to think of the both of you, and your passenger has to cooperate. But I'll give you a few goes with me before you try it with someone else. It would not impress a potential girlfriend to get her splinched."

"Next weekend then? And I doubt that Hagrid would miss one of his hundreds of spiders. If I caught one on its own, it would be safe enough."

"Take no chances. The venom's very precious. I'll tell you how to collect it - just in case."

His opportunity came when sixth year started the four week course, Cooking, Cleaning, & Repairs, (CC&R.) Thursday mornings, first period. Compulsory for everyone not doing Household Management. Neville glanced significantly at Ron when Harry abandoned them to sit with Hannah instead. Her usual companion, Susan Bones, was not in the course.

Hannah glanced at him in surprise, and Harry said casually, "I need my hand held. I haven't a clue about these spells."

Hannah said sceptically, "Seamus told Susan you've made a foldable bookcase that you can shrink when you choose. Don't tell me you can't clean!"

"I can clean a bit, but I haven't a clue about cooking or sewing or even making beds, except by hand."

"You can conjure bed and bedding, from what I hear!"

Harry gave up, and instead asked directly, "Will you come out with me one day please, Hannah?"

Hannah stared at him in absolute surprise, quite grateful when the teacher called for quiet.

It was only when they moved onto the practical exercise of cleaning up a filthy classroom, that Hannah gave any sort of answer. "I thought you were going out with Stephanie Caruthers."

"Well, sometimes, but it's not exclusive. She's spending a lot of time with Michael."

"So would you give up having sex with Stephanie and the other girls you meet?"

"Hannah... How about just a fun excursion in Edinburgh - maybe to a fun fair, or shopping or the cinema - whatever you want? Just for fun, to get to know each other better."

"Hedging your bets?"

Harry reddened a little, but he _needed_ Stephanie, or someone like her. Just that he wanted to have some ordinary fun with Hannah Abbot.

Hannah read his posture, and sighed. He wasn't willing to give up those others, and it made his invitation seem a little false. She said testily, "And how would you get to Edinburgh, anyway? They won't even allow you out!"

"Hush! People will hear. If you don't want to come, just say so. But please don't tell anyone."

"Then you shouldn't have mentioned it."

Harry said desperately, "Hannah, please keep it quiet. I shouldn't have said. They'll put me in manacles or something if they know."

"Surely you're in too much danger when you go out of bounds."

"I'm pretty sure that Voldemort must be dead. And even if he's not, he's a long way away. I'm in no danger. Not from him."

"I won't tell anyone, then. But I should. Professor Dumbledore only wants to look after you, you know."

Harry said, "We could have a date here. We could conjure maybe some nice mats and furniture beside the swimming pool, and pretend it's the beach."

Hannah giggled, "You're getting desperate."

"Make a suggestion then. I want to go out with you."

The professor said, "Hurry up, you pair. Everyone else is finished."

Harry looked up, waved his wand, and the mess disappeared.

Hannah said scathingly, "You wanted me to hold your hand!"

Harry said, "Yes, please."

Hannah giggled and Harry thought there might be some hope after all.

Susan grabbed her friend the moment she saw her next, and asked, "Is it true? Harry asked you to go out?"

Hannah stared at her in surprise, "How did you hear?"

"It's Harry Potter! What he does gets noticed. Well, did he?"

Hannah nodded sheepishly.

"So where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I sort of said no."

Susan demanded, "Why? You've liked him since third year, haven't you?"

"He's got a girlfriend, more than one. I saw him flirting with Malene yesterday."

"And if he wants you? Are you really going to say no?"

"He doesn't really want me, I know he doesn't. I don't know why he asked me out."

Susan laughed, "Because he likes you, silly. So what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

Harry continued to pursue Hannah, not being pressing, but taking every opportunity to talk to her, sometimes eating at the Hufflepuff Table, ostensibly with Chris who was part of the Duelling and PT group. Except for special occasions, when eating at their own House tables was expected, there was always a little mixing, especially among the senior students, most of whom preferred to date outside their own House.

It was February, nearly Valentine's Day. There was always a Hogsmeade visit as near as possible to Valentine's Day, which was this year on a Monday. The Hogsmeade weekend was an occasion when boyfriend/girlfriend relationships tended to become 'official.' Hannah asked Harry if he had a date for Hogsmeade, and when he said no, asked why not. Harry frowned, "I'm not allowed out. You know that."

"If you were allowed, who would you take?"

"If you knocked me back again? I really don't know."

Hannah said casually, "Well, you can join us then, if you like. Susan and Seamus, Hermione and Ron. And you can come too."

Harry beamed, "As your date? And where?"

Hannah's voice was a touch cool, "As one of a group of friends. Saturday afternoon and within Hogwarts grounds. Only we girls know the venue, and we're organising a picnic. You won't have to do anything - including conjuring beds!"

Harry said, "Ahh... fine."

It was just to be as a group of friends, so Harry felt no guilt when he arranged with Heather to meet her that evening. It was in one of the large dungeons currently being used by the Construction Class. There were now five small, freestanding rooms, two of them complete. It was a matter of minutes to provide the furnishings, warmth and privacy required, and the pair settled down to give each other pleasure.

Afterwards, Harry kissed the girl, and said contentedly that sex had to be the best thing in the world.

Heather lay with a smile on her face, feeling as satisfied as he was. No competent witch had an accidental pregnancy, and Wizardkind was very resistant to infections, including those spread by sex. There was no reason to abstain from sexual activity, and morals didn't quite enter into the equation. The half-bloods and Muggle-raised youngsters were often a bit more inhibited. Hermione, for instance, very much disapproved of Harry's multiple relationships, though she hadn't said anything, and it was not as if he flaunted it.

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling_

_**Chapter 11**__:_

Friday, duelling class. For the first exercise, the duelling lanes had been opened right up, and now Vayden and Harry stood back to back, facing the five remaining members of the class. Mick watched carefully. The battle was limited to marking, tripping and disarming spells, plus shield spells. They'd been allowed a brief consultation beforehand. He gave the signal, and Vayden put up a strong shield that covered himself and Harry. Marking spells bounced off. Then abruptly, the whole scene went inky black. Mick blinked. He supposed that was a variety of shield, though he hadn't taught it. As arranged, Vayden dropped to the ground, crawled to a corner, and waited, flat on the floor, and shielded.

Mick listened hard, trying to work out what was going on. At first there were the shouted incantations from the larger team, but he heard nothing from Harry. A sudden exclamation, and Draco called indignantly, "That was me, Chris! Watch it!"

"Well, make it light then!" There was a quiet murmur Mick couldn't identify. He heard nothing from Harry. There were several failed attempts to make it light again.

When the scene lit up, it was not in response to any voiced spell, and Vayden held five wands in his hand. Each of the opposing team had a white glow, indicating they'd taken four hits. Neither he nor Harry showed any hits.

Mick ordered, "Explain!"

Vayden said casually, "I guess I was just pretty good, Professor."

Mick grinned, "Eleven minutes. Not at all bad."

Harry asked, "Do we get the reward?"

Mick shook his head, "It's really very childish handing out rewards!"

Vayden said, "We need chocolates to give our girlfriends." Mick handed over the two small boxes of chocolates, decorated for Valentine's gifts.

Harry remarked, "McGonnagal's clamped down on my money. I couldn't afford to buy anything."

Draco asked, "So who's it for - Stephanie, Heather or Malene?"

It was for Hannah, of course, though Harry wasn't at all sure she'd accept it. He asked, "Who are you going out with, Draco?"

"Pansy, sometimes, Trevor, sometimes..."

Harry exclaimed, "Trevor!"

Draco laughed at him, "Your Muggle upbringing is showing, Harry. Why shouldn't I have fun with Trevor?"

Mick intervened, "I am a school professor, boys. And sex between students is officially discouraged."

"Sorry, Professor, though I don't understand why."

Mick grinned, "Neither did I? Do students still use the Astronomy Tower?"

"Far too cold."

There was a brief knock at the door - Professor Dumbledore, with five others. One was a tall man with a heavy mane of black hair, grizzled white. He looked around at the students, and asked abruptly, "Which is he?" His eyes were on Charlie Greaves, who was nearly eighteen, had black hair, and was over six feet in height.

Dumbledore said, "Harry, come here." Harry stepped forward, and the man's eyes rested on him, assessingly. Harry returned his gaze, and then looked over the others. Fudge, McKenzie and three others, one of whom he recognized as a student who'd graduated a couple of years back. Chris's brother? He wore the uniform of an Auror, though with a variation on the badge. A trainee then. The other young man also wore the uniform of an Auror. The third man was around forty, heavily bearded, and with deep lines on his face. He wore a heavy brown cape, trimmed with a darker brown, and with a badge of brown, blue and red. No introductions were made.

The first man said, "Harry Potter. They say you're a coward!"

Harry replied evenly, "Yes, Sir."

The man regarded the duelling room, and said scathingly, "Trained with rewards, like a monkey."

Harry shrugged and suddenly grinned to himself. If he chose, he could bore into the man's consciousness, and have him squealing, maybe even take control and have him jumping around like a monkey. It was lucky he was such a peaceful person.

Dumbledore said, a gentle rebuke in his voice, "None of us here are joking, my boy. This is Dachier Arne Kuhnast, of Germany." Dachier, Germany's term for Minister of Magic.

Harry said politely, "Good afternoon, Dachier."

Kuhnast said abruptly, "Well, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"A coward of course."

Harry shrugged. He didn't think so, not when a few days before he'd visited the Acromantula Colony, and, he hoped, made them all sterile. Not that it had been very dangerous. He'd been on his broomstick the whole time.

Kuhnast looked back at Dumbledore, "You promised a demonstration."

"Certainly. Harry you're to face Oliver Pearson, who's in the Auror Programme."

"What spells are allowed?"

"Only the usual, nothing that will hurt."

Oliver looked contemptuous, and Chris said, "Be grateful, brother. Harry could tie you in knots if he chose."

Harry defeated Oliver with dispatch, and then the trainee and the qualified Auror, working together. Kuhnast was beginning to look a lot less disdainful. Dumbledore smiled with satisfaction. His tool was ready.

Kuhnast asked Dumbledore, "How fit is he? I heard he was sickly."

"Fit and strong, though I don't expect he'll ever be big. Size is not always an indication of power."

McKenzie suggested, "Against the target?"

Kuhnast asked, "What does he do if he gets hurt?"

Harry answered for himself, "I refuse to play."

"_Play?_ I understood you were being trained to take on the Lord Voldemort."

"I have never agreed that I should be a sacrificial offering. If Voldemort doesn't bother me, I won't bother him."

Dumbledore shook his head, "Harry, my dear boy, you still don't understand. Destiny cannot be denied."

"My destiny is _mine_ to determine, Sir. No-one else."

Dumbledore turned to McKenzie, who chose to ignore the exchange, and said merely, "Against the target. Intensity 10."

Mick said, "Harry, I want you to demonstrate a variety of curses and shields. Refrain from destroying the target."

The second German spoke for the first time, with a heavy accent, "Is Vatier Target. No break!"

Mick smirked, "Vayden, bring out Shorty. No. 2 lane." Shorty, the target without a head, and one of the centre lanes so they could all have a good view.

Mick and McKenzie grinned when the Germans refused to believe that Harry was capable of destroying a Watier target. Harry leaned against the wall, wand tapping against his leg as they argued. The Germans wanted to see the target destroyed, but Fudge spoke about costs. Only when Kuhnast offered to pay did Harry get his instructions. "Fight to the death."

Harry queried, "The death?"

"You take four harmless hits, or you destroy the target, whichever comes first."

"Yes, Sir." He glanced at his audience and shrugged. It was still in his best interests not to defy either Dumbledore or Fudge. He'd do as instructed.

Vayden murmured to Draco, "I keep expecting Harry to revolt, but he hasn't so far."

"The way they talk about him as if he wasn't there! When will it occur to them that if he chose, he could be greater than the Dark Lord ever was?"

"Greater?"

"My father always said the Dark Lord used to be great. Only that he was never the same after the curse that backfired."

"Do you think the Dark Lord will return to England?"

"He has to. And he has to kill Harry if he's to retain any credibility."

Intensity 10. Harry was getting a very good workout. He'd not yet been hit, but he was beginning to tire. A slash curse hit the weakest point of Shorty's leg, the leg fell to the side, and the target lost its balance, though still firing off curse after curse. Harry's speed was very obvious. He didn't try and disarm the target. The wand was firmly fixed to its hand. Instead, he attacked the wrist joint until the wand hand was detached. Shorty struggled on the floor, and Harry looked questioningly at Mick.

Fudge called excitedly, "Dust, Harry. Reduce it to dust!"

"Why?" Using that much power would tire him.

Fudge said, "C'mon Harry. Just do it!"

Harry wiped his brow, went to the harmless target, pointed his wand, and Shorty was dust. Fudge actually cheered and Harry grinned at him. The Minister for Magic sometimes seemed a little simple-minded. There was still a dismembered leg, and a forearm with wand in hand. He went back to stand with the other students.

Draco said, in a tone of polite disgust, "You're all over sweat, Harry. Quite vile!"

Dumbledore came over, patted Harry on the shoulder, and said benignly, "You did very well. Go and pack for a trip. You're going to Germany."

"Why?"

Dumbledore exerted all his will, "You're not to be afraid, but it is known where Voldemort is. It is time for you to fulfil the Prophecy."

Harry turned to Kuhnast, and asked coolly, "And how much am I to be paid?"

Kuhnast looked at Fudge, who spluttered.

Dumbledore said in a tone of sorrow, "It is your duty, Harry. I would hope that no student of mine would ever be remiss in his duty."

Harry shook his head. "It is not my duty, Professor. However, I will agree to come on Sunday or afterwards, for no more than a week, and provided I am awarded my apparation license, full freedom to come and go, and full access to my vault at Gringotts. Those are my terms. They are not dependent on me fighting Voldemort, only on my being willing to face him if he truly is there."

Draco said, "Ask for emancipation, Harry. The rest comes automatically."

Harry queried, "Emancipation?"

Draco explained, "Emancipation means you're an adult. No guardian."

Harry smiled, "Emancipation. I will come to Germany if I am granted emancipation and an apparation license."

Kuhnast said, "I agree that paying you is only fair. The same as an Auror for the whole time you're in Germany, a bonus if you defeat him. Emancipation is up to your Minister. But we do want you straightaway. He is elusive."

"Sorry, I have a date tomorrow."

Kuhnast stared at him incredulously, and Mick gave a snort of laughter.

McKenzie said, "Harry, you can't possibly put a girlfriend ahead of the safety of our world."

"Of course I can. I'm a teenage boy. I also have three assignments to complete."

The other man was looking from one to the other, not quite able to follow the conversation in English. Kuhnast said, "This is Albrecht Graf, by the way, Mr. Potter. Our Head Auror."

Graf extended his hand, and Harry, pleased with the courtesy, shook it, "Mr. Graf."

Dumbledore said, "Go shower, Harry. Clean clothes, and come to my office."

Harry hesitated, "There is no good stunning me and delivering me to him like bait. He won't be defeated like that."

Kuhnast assured him, "That would not be considered. Either you come voluntarily, or we'll continue to deal with the problem ourselves."

"Thank you, Mr. Kuhnast."

Mick glanced at his watch as Harry, Dumbledore and the others retreated. "Ten minutes. You might as well have an early mark. And keep it quiet!"

Chris asked, "They wouldn't really consider that, would they, Mick?"

"What?"

"Taking him by force."

"An unwilling fighter is seldom effective. There would be no point."

The trainee and junior Auror waited outside Dumbledore's office, while inside, the two Germans were speaking rapidly to each other. The English were in a separate huddle. McKenzie queried, "His terms, Minister Fudge?"

"He's less than six months from being legally an adult in any case. What do you think, Albus?"

Dumbledore said firmly, "I am against it. Or only if he succeeds. And I suggest you surround him with Aurors to prevent a bolt. I don't like to say it, but our Harry is not always obedient."

McKenzie suggested mildly, "Mick is close to the boy. If Mick stays close, that will keep his courage up. Maybe Kingsley and Stew again, as he had in the hospital. He seemed to trust them."

"So what do we say?"

Dumbledore said, "He gets access to his money, win or lose, and I will promise freedom to come and go. However, if he fails, and Voldemort is still on the loose, then the circumstances will have changed. Unfortunately in that case, I cannot permit him to put himself into danger. But that is hypothetical, and there is no need to speak of it at this stage."

"The apparation license?"

"He must be able to apparate already, if he asked for it."

"Being unable to apparate will put him at a strong disadvantage in a dangerous situation. I say we teach him to apparate tomorrow, if it is needed, and if he's proficient, supply him with a license. Leave Sunday."

"If he can apparate, and we take him outside the wards, he could simply flee."

"He didn't ask to be taught..."

Fudge nodded, "He can have the license without any testing."

Meantime Harry showered, very thoughtful. He thought he really needed a solicitor to argue for him. The thing was, of course, that Voldemort was dead, and he couldn't help feeling excited when he thought of the trip. There shouldn't be any danger in it for him. What he had done was betray that he could apparate, and now they'd be worried that he'd leave. Would he be able to defeat an anti-disapparation charm if they put one on him? There was no way he'd yield his wand, but he didn't think a temporary anti-disapparation charm would hurt. They'd covered them in Defence, and they wore off after a few weeks, even if not lifted.

Kuhnast was amused and impressed when the youth held his own in the negotiations. Harry emerged with signed papers stating that he could access his vault without restriction, that once returned from Germany, he would be as free to come and go as any other school student, and that arrangements for his emancipation would be started. He also had the promise of an apparation license, but in return he'd had to agree to submit to having an anti-disapparation charm imposed. They were to leave Sunday.

It was not long later when he was very much regretting that he hadn't agreed to go immediately. Everywhere he went, there were whispers and pointing, and when Hannah spotted him, she turned quickly away, apparently struggling not to cry. Stephanie and Heather, on the other hand, stayed close, wanting to hold his hand and talking excitedly.

Harry balked and almost turned tail at the sudden silence when he entered the Great Hall for dinner, but Draco stood up and called, "Come here, Harry. I'll tell you about emancipation."

Ron scowled and went to the Gryffindor table. He still thought all Slytherins Death Eaters in training.

Draco watched as Harry helped himself to a meal, and said mockingly, "Not nervous, then?"

Harry said shortly, "He's probably not even there. And if he is, one way or the other, I'll be free of him, and people are going to stop treating me like a freak!"

He glowered at Trevor, who was looking at him adoringly. Trevor smiled back. Harry asked abruptly, "Vayden, heard whether your brother is happy with Fiona?"

"Of course he is. She's Hecatema!"

"How did he find out about her, do you know?"

Vayden shrugged, "Father's an influential man. Favours owed, you know the sort of thing. I just wish Father had told me. I reckon I could have beaten Linley."

Draco asked curiously, "What do you know about her, Harry?"

"She sent me a letter a few weeks before, with directions. As I understand, it was given to our respected headmaster to pass on to me. I never received it."

Vayden looked surprised, and then laughed, "Your loss, our family's gain."

"Dumbledore's gain as well, I daresay!"

Draco asked, "Did they promise emancipation?"

"They promised to put it in hand. My estimate is that it will take until 31st July. I did get a commitment that I could access my money."

"Freedom to come and go?"

"Promised, but doubtful. If I'm still prisoner after I'm seventeen, I might need help to hire a solicitor. It would be bad policy simply to break out."

"It would indeed. I'm surprised you're so prudent."

Harry pushed aside his empty plate, which vanished. His favourite dessert suddenly appeared in front of him. Harry jumped and then laughed, "The house-elves. Even they think I'm going to my death!"

"You're not?"

Harry grinned, "I'll take all bets that I come back."

Draco snorted, "Who'd take that bet. If you're dead, you can't pay!"

Harry said hopefully, "I'll leave promissory notes."

Draco asked, "Who's to look after your will?"

"A will is not valid until you're seventeen. I guess my Aunt Petunia would inherit."

Draco shook his head, "It would be in very bad taste to bet on your death."

Harry said mockingly, "What about you, Brooks? You even took a hand last year. I never got around to taking revenge."

Brooks said sulkily, "It was just a stun spell. How would I know you'd be seriously ill because of it?"

Harry asked curiously, "Have you had any contact from those who gave the order?"

Brooks stood abruptly and left the table.

Harry said, "Hey, house-elves, could I have another dessert?" A second dessert appeared in front of him, and Harry laughed, "Thank you."

Draco regarded Harry's place, and said, "House-elves, I'll have a marble parfait, please."

Nothing appeared, and Harry twinkled at him, "Favouritism. They like me." He was in a good mood, now, laughing and joking with the Slytherins.

Hannah whispered to Susan, "Would you believe it? He just doesn't seem to care!"

Seamus was nearby, and reassured, "He's pretty sure he's dead. He's not going to worry about a dead man."

Susan said, "Remember how he used to collapse sometimes? It was because of the connection between them. If he thinks he's dead, he's probably right."

"If he's in Germany, he's probably simply out of range. And Harry's only sixteen, not even as old as I am."

Draco asked Harry, "So who are you going to honour with your company tonight? We've talked around, and you can have Pansy or Heather or Stephanie or Venetia or Lyn or Trevor."

Harry grinned, "The last meal for a dying man?" He looked around speculatively, and took a sip of coffee before looking up innocently. "I think I'll have you, Draco. You're so pretty with that blonde hair."

Draco pulled back, spluttering. Trevor put in, "Good idea, Harry. Try it before you die."

Harry asked, "Well, Draco?"

Draco shook his head, very firmly. "No way. You're not really going to die, and I don't fancy the idea."

Trevor said helpfully, "You can have me, Harry. I don't mind that you're small."

Heather said in a silky tone, "Oh, he's not _small,_ not where it counts."

Harry went bright red, "Heather!"

Heather said in an innocent voice, "Yes, dear one?"

Harry wiped his brow, and asked, "Heather? Same time, same place?"

Heather smiled, "Yes, dear one."

The Slytherins had been good for him, much better than the gloomy pall which seemed to hang over the other tables. Harry left cheerfully, to try and get through as much work as possible before Sunday. Arithmancy was still giving him trouble, and he wanted to go in with the fifth years after the Easter break.

Two hours later, he put aside his Arithmancy books, and stretched. Still an hour before he was due to meet Heather. They always met fairly late, as there were too many people around earlier. Three of the second years approached, and Meggie asked, "Can we get you anything, Harry? A coffee?"

Harry looked at her in surprise. Peter and Euan were with her. They looked pale and anxious. He reassured, "I'm only going away for a few days. I will be back, you know."

Peter said, "Ron showed me how to get to the kitchens, and we'll say it's for you."

"If you want... A hot chocolate, and something sweet would be good." He frowned after them as they hurried off, and looked around. Others were watching him, though he hadn't noticed when he'd been concentrating on homework. Why Dumbledore hadn't been a bit more discreet, he didn't know. It was very awkward.

He sighed and pulled a Transfiguration textbook towards himself. McGonnagal was the least tolerant of the teachers when he didn't manage to complete the work allotted. He was engrossed again by the time a hot chocolate and a plate of cakes were quietly placed beside him, only looking up when Ron plumped himself down next to him, and helped himself to one of the cakes. He looked around and smiled at the second years, "Thanks, kids. I appreciate it."

Ron asked, "Did you really say you couldn't go until Sunday because you had a date?"

"It's just that it's my first date with Hannah - or almost date. She says it's not really a date."

"Are you seriously keen on her then?"

"I'd just like to get to know her a bit better."

Charlie paused by the table, and asked, "Did you really suggest that _Draco_ go to bed with you?"

Harry laughed, "I wasn't serious. Just that he seemed to be offering a dozen others, including Trevor, so I suggested that he himself might like to comfort the doomed hero."

"You think it'll be all right then?"

"I think it'll be a fizzer, but they've promised me some pay, and I get to go to Germany."

Ron said, "Well, the Valentine's picnic's still on, Hermione said. And she's trying to persuade Hannah and Susan that you'll come back safely."

"Doesn't make for a cheerful picnic though, does it? If the girls think I'm going to my death."

"They're going to collect us here at three o'clock tomorrow. None of us boys know where they're taking us."

Saturday morning, and Harry was in the library, doing some research. He looked up and scowled when yet another person said nervously, "Hello, Harry."

The three first years took a step back, but one said quaveringly, "He killed my grandparents and two of my uncles. I wanted to say good luck."

Guiltily, Harry tried to look a little more pleasant, and said, "Thank you, Jilly," pleased to be able to dredge the name from his memory. The two others echoed the first, and then hurried away, looking miserable.

Harry swore, and was rebuked by the librarian, who then noticed who he was, and said, "Oh, sorry." Then disastrously, "It's for the greater good, you know. You die in a good cause."

Harry stood up, angrily gathering his books together, and snapped, "I have no intention of dying, not for the greater good, nor for anything else!"

The middle-aged woman said gently, "Yes, Harry."

Harry didn't hear, already stalking out.

It was unbearable, and Harry strode through the corridors, his mind made up to go out. He supposed he'd best be back for lunch, as he had no money. On a sudden thought, he wrote a letter first and enclosed a copy of Dumbledore's blanket authorisation. To Gringott's requesting several money orders for large amounts, urgently, to be sent care of Ronald Weasley. Hopefully the request might go through before Dumbledore reneged on his promises. Hedwig. At least his owl was acting normally towards him. He caressed her soft feathers, and told her that he'd be away for a few days, maybe up to a week. She hooted softly, and flew off.

He felt a little soothed after that, but glared again when he noticed Mick apparently keeping an eye on him, and then on his way outside, an oddball Ravenclaw tried to press a good luck charm on him. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was on his broom, soared once around the full extent of the boundaries, and then, more carefully, below the tree line, to that point where he could disapparate. It took three attempts to disapparate, he supposed his concentration had been lacking. But then he was in the neglected shrubbery of a rundown factory - the approved Apparation Point for Edinburgh. It was a relief to just walk the streets, where no-one knew where he was, where no-one thought he was brave, and where no-one expected him to die for the greater good.

McGonnagal reported to Dumbledore, "He's in the Forbidden Forest somewhere, but Hagrid said he knows where he goes. He's made himself a little treehouse. I guess he just likes to be alone sometimes."

"I don't want to have to compel him to go with the Aurors."

"I don't think that will be necessary. Just that he's always hated being the centre of attention. It would have been better if his departure could have been managed more discreetly."

Dumbledore took refuge in his air of mystery, "I had my reasons, Minerva. I always have my reasons." And so he did. Just that this time his reason was because he'd been careless. The boy couldn't leave, of course. Not just that the gate guards had orders to be especially careful, but there were two Aurors also watching the gate, although concealed from casual scrutiny. And Harry was already under an anti-disapparation charm, though he didn't know it. McKenzie had done that, silently and from behind. Only prudent. Albrecht Graf had seen, but luckily hadn't said anything.

Dumbledore was more concerned when Harry didn't appear at lunch. There were other absentees, as many of the students were in Hogsmeade, making the most of the treat. Compared to a Muggle school, Hogwarts was not generous to its students. They worked hard, there were no school excursions, and their only outings were the occasional Hogsmeade weekends.

Harry was in Devon, inspecting the completed block of flats that had caught his interest in the summer. He was very hungry, but ignored it. He couldn't bear to return yet.

Ron said quietly to Hermione, "I'm pretty sure he's gone out. The curiosity was driving him mad!"

"Susan and Hannah have promised not even to mention it to him. To try and give him a good time."

"Best way. Funny thing, he slept well last night. Once he stopped growling about bloody kids wanting bloody autographs."

Hermione was a little shocked, "I've hardly ever heard him swear."

"He was last night. And he said that it would have been far better if he'd just gone straightaway, when they said."

"Is he really keen on Hannah?"

"I don't know. She's nothing like the girlfriends he's had."

"I couldn't believe the way the Slytherins were acting - as if they didn't care he was risking his life."

"He says he's not risking his life."

"He could be. Even if Voldemort's not there, there must be criminals. It's going to be dangerous, whatever he says."

"His duelling skills are phenomenal, Charlie says."

Harry checked his watch, and decided that it was time to return. Again, he had a little trouble apparating, and this time he realised what the problem was. He'd come to realise that he did indeed have more power than other wizards. An anti-disapparation charm, and he'd been able to overcome it. Probably one of those things he should keep to himself. If he wanted one day to be treated as if he was ordinary, he'd have to act ordinary. Certainly not use his sense of person to show off in duelling class.

Dumbledore had the message that Harry was back almost the moment he returned his broom to its place, and headed upstairs to change. He gave a sigh of relief. His prestige would have suffered a severe blow if his tool was seen to be unwilling to face his destiny. It was sad, of course, that Harry might defeat Voldemort, only to die because of the fractured bond, but maybe it was for the best. A wizard with too much power was dangerous, and Harry had the potential to be very powerful indeed. Better he die before he started flexing muscles.

Hannah looked around smilingly at the Tropical Greenhouse, and said gratefully, "It's very good of you to allow us to use it, Professor Sprout. He's not allowed out, you see."

Sprout said briskly, "Whatever I can do. The boy gets treated shamefully, it seems to me."

Hannah was surprised, "He does?"

"Telling a child the fate of our world rests on his shoulders, it's a disgrace!"

"But the Prophecy..."

"Sybil Trelawney can't predict when the first snows are due, let alone anything else!"

Hermione laughed, "I agree. She's a dead fraud!"

Sprout was suddenly stern, "Now don't you go repeating what I said. I don't want to be fired at my age."

Hannah smiled at her, feeling better than she had since she heard, "Yes, Professor Sprout."

"And no getting carried away here. I know what teenagers are like, and anyone could walk in!"

"No, Professor Sprout."

Pomona Sprout beckoned, and dropped her voice, "There's a small room at the back of this greenhouse, quite clean and cosy. Very private." The girls stared at her in amazement, and Sprout looked embarrassed, "Just if you wanted to, I mean... It's between two other rooms, both of which are filled with tools and pots, and so on. The door's lockable."

By the time the three boys were shown into the greenhouse, there was a clean, cleared area, with a large table spread with a feast. Hannah said quickly, a little anxiously, "No dangerous plants, they're all just decorative and sweet-smelling. Professor Sprout says it's where she comes for relaxation, but we have special permission to use it."

Harry looked around, and said, "It's beautiful! I never really understood why people wanted to grow things like Venomous Tentacula or Stinging Blusnost, but I can understand this!"

Hannah beamed at him, "I'm going to be a landscape gardener one day, and grow whole parks full of beautiful things."

"I'm going to be a builder one day. Maybe I can hire you to do the gardens."

It was a promising start, and as no-one mentioned Germany or evil dark lords, or even autographs, the small event continued to go well. It was almost dark when the boys were sent out, and the girls started to tidy. Hermione said, "That little place at back... If I came here tonight?"

Susan said, "Seamus and I already have a special place."

"Hannah?"

"I scarcely know him. And anyway, I heard Venetia say she was having him tonight."

Hermione laughed, "I wonder if he knows!"

"He gave me some chocolates."

Harry was in a much better mood, and as no-one disturbed him, he was able to ready the Transfiguration Assignment for marking, and had time to do some preliminary work on the Potions one. Hermione shared both those subjects with him, so she could hand them in for him. Arithmancy, and he gathered up the completed work, and looked around for the one fourth year Gryffindor who did Arithmancy, but Simon wasn't present. Hardly anyone was, though usually at this time there would be a quite a large gathering in the Common Room.

Dinner. Harry sat between Ron and Neville, and ignored the whispers and abruptly cut off conversations. Mick came over to their table to say he'd be coming as well. "Pack one set of school robes, plus casual Muggle clothing, whatever else you think you'll need, and I'll collect you from the Common Room at six in the morning."

"How are we going, Sir?"

"Portkey to the Ministry, and an airplane from there."

Harry was surprised, "An ordinary airplane? I expected something more impressive."

"Like what?"

"Well, when the other schools came for the Triwizard Tournament, one arrived in a carriage pulled by flying horses, and one in a ship that rose from the lake."

"Trying to impress, no doubt. Rest assured that they would have made most of the trip in a perfectly conventional manner."

Ron asked, surprised, "Didn't you realise that, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, "Life is full of disappointments, I guess."

Hermione said, "I was sure that wizards would have more efficient means of travelling as well. But Portkeys have a maximum range of not much more than apparation, and it's no good making multiple apparation jumps, as you just exhaust yourself."

Harry grinned, "You read it in a book, somewhere?"

"Of course. Though I would have expected you to know that. It's common knowledge."

Mick suggested, "It's one of those things that wizard families take for granted, and don't talk about, probably. And a small warning. I suspect that the Headmaster will make a speech wishing you luck." Harry's frown returned.

Mick clasped him on the shoulder, and said, "Put up with it. It would not be a good idea to announce to the whole student body that you're doing it only for the pay."

Harry ate quickly, skipped dessert, and by the time Dumbledore rose to make his speech, he was gone. Dumbledore referred to his 'modest hero,' and to the virtues of undertaking difficult tasks when duty requires. Harry packed his Arithmancy books and three History books. Unless they planned to entertain him in the evenings, there would probably be reading time.

Snape looked up expectantly when there was a knock on his office door, late. Harry, with the completed Potions essay. Harry said, "A bit shorter than expected, I'm afraid, but I ran out of time."

"So what did you miss?"

"Researching the Indickiri effect, but I've marked it in my diary, and I'll get back to it."

Snape glanced over the essay, and laughed, "As usual, just enough to get a pass."

Harry grinned, "A pass is enough. There's no point working myself silly."

Snape wrote a brief note, "Here's the reference you need."

"Three extra subjects because I'm the Boy Who Lived, and taking me away for several days - they're not very kind to me sometimes."

"Did Dumbledore give you a choice?"

"The German Dachier would have done. All Dumbledore did was use the Mind-Magic compulsion/persuasion."

Snape nodded, "I don't know why I never realised before you told me. To me, he was my saviour and hero. And he seemed to know by instinct how to play on the right emotions - guilt in my case."

"The desire for someone who cared for me, in my case, like a parent. I almost worshipped him in the beginning."

"Now?"

"He's too powerful. I can't take him on, and I don't really want to leave England. And by the way, they've got a tracking device on me again, so they'll know I was here."

"Can't you take it off?"

"I prefer it to having guards too obvious. I'd hate the others to see me taken away under guard."

"Do you think they'd do it?"

"I think they might. This is the less intrusive option."

"Enjoy your date?"

Harry smiled, "It was nice."

"Hannah Abbot?"

"She said it was not a date, just a group of friends."

"You meeting anyone tonight?"

"She told me she needed me or she wouldn't be able to sleep for worry. It sounded a good reason to me!"

Snape held out his hand, "Have fun, Harry, and don't get yourself hurt in other people's wars."

"I'll try not to. See you later, Severus."

An hour later, he left Malene, and to his surprise, found himself following Ron and Hermione, also just coming in. They didn't even notice him, just kissing each other and separating to go to their dorms. Ron looked back at Hermione disappearing up the steps, looking a bit dazed, and very, very happy. Harry smiled, and refrained from asking.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Terms used:__ Anirage is another name for Wizardkind, Aniragi is the adjective, also the language, and an Aniragia is a Wizarding area such as Diagon Alley._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 12:**_

They were aboard the aeroplane, and Harry inspected his brand new passport. A magical forgery he assumed, though it looked perfectly genuine as far as he could tell. Mick sat beside him, and said, "There's the standard charm. Whenever used, the one inspecting it will know automatically that everything's in order, and that he should only be helpful."

Harry pocketed it, hoping he'd be allowed to keep it. Their flight was First Class, and they'd been treated like VIPs. There had been no search, and so no-one was asked to explain why they should be carrying wands. On the seat behind them sat Kingsley and Stewart, both of them large enough that an economy seat would have left them thoroughly uncomfortable.

Harry asked Mick, "Do you know what we're supposed to be doing?"

"Not yet. My instructions are only to keep you company. I'll be sharing your bedroom."

There was little to do that afternoon. They were installed in a Muggle hotel, and introduced to Hans Gauleiter, who was to act as interpreter. Hans told them that he was at their disposal, but nothing would be happening that day. Harry said, "We can go out, I hope. Have a walk around, look at the shops?"

Hans shook his head, "I have strict instructions that Harry Potter is not to be seen abroad. I'm sorry, Harry, but your face is too well-known."

Harry was surprised, "Even here?"

"When it became clear who was responsible for the rash of crimes against Muggles and Muggle-born, your story was publicised. There have been several photographs of you in the newspapers this past week."

"After we see if he's at this place, though, I can go out, can't I? Muggle places, perhaps?"

"I see no reason why not, but of course, it's up to Herr Graf. He is our Head Auror."

"Why do you think it's Voldemort?"

"It is him. When they make a raid, they wear the black cloaks and masks of Death Eaters. Three times, when they have struck, they have left the Dark Mark hovering over the place."

"And what have they actually done?"

"Nineteen murders last count, and several instances of sustained torture, though the victims were left alive in return for large amounts of money."

Harry asked curiously, "Is that Voldemort's style, Mick? To kill for money?"

"Don't you know?"

"I'm not an expert on Voldemort. I'm just the mug he used to try and kill now and then."

"I don't remember reports of him demanding money."

Hans said, "He is now. We know he's here, and that is why you cannot go out."

"Afterwards, then. I don't want to return and not even see the country! And Hans, Herr Graf said I could be paid. Could you ask if I could have it in cash, English and German Muggle currency, and as soon as possible?"

Hans was surprised, "It would normally be paid into your account. Isn't that satisfactory?"

"I don't have free access to my account. Right now, I can't buy myself even an ice-cream!"

Hans looked doubtfully at Mick, who said, "I don't see why not, if it can be managed."

"I'll see what can be arranged."

Harry paced restlessly around the room once he'd left. Mick leaned against the wall, hoping he'd be obedient. Harry sighed and started pulling out his Arithmancy books. On a sudden thought, he asked, "Are you any good at Arithmancy?"

"I did it at school. Didn't like it much."

"Do you understand the Oswinj Principle?"

"I'm afraid not."

An hour later, Harry was engrossed in his work, and Mick sprawled in a chair, watching TV. Harry looked up and said, "No reason why you should be confined as well, is there? You could go out."

"I'm on duty. I'm to stay with you."

Harry regarded him, frowning slightly, and finally asked, "Kingsley and Stewart. What are they supposed to be doing?"

"Keeping you safe. They're outside the door."

Harry grinned ruefully, "Keeping me safe, or making sure I'm available when required?"

"Both, I suppose."

"I wonder if one of them might be able to explain Oswinj to me."

Not long later, Kingsley Shacklebolt was conveying an understanding of Oswinj far more clearly than Professor Landen ever had, at least to Harry. Harry was grateful, and worked through the remaining problems quickly. He sat back finally, and said, "You're handy to have around."

Kingsley asked, "Not worried about tomorrow?"

"If it is tomorrow. I'm not worried because I think he's dead. And just incidentally, Kingsley..."

He paused, and Kingsley asked, "Yes?"

Harry's gaze turned hard and cold, "If you stun me in order to safely apparate or for any other reason, my cooperation ceases!"

Kingsley was taken aback by the sudden fierceness, but recovered and said peaceably, "Herr Graf has made it clear that your participation must be entirely voluntary."

"Good." Harry closed his textbooks, stretched, and asked, "Do we at least go someplace for dinner?"

"I don't imagine that will be risky. Only that no wizard should know that you're here."

While Mick, Hans and Harry ate at one of the Hotel restaurants, Albrecht Graf conferred with Vance McKenzie and Kingsley Shacklebolt. McKenzie had also made the trip, but separately. Graf asked, "Is he fear? He's not grown - just… boy."

McKenzie looked at Kingsley, who replied, "On the contrary. He's perfectly calm and doing his homework."

"Homework!"

"He doesn't believe that the Dark Lord is really here, you see. He says he thinks he's dead."

"He thinks he's dead?"

"Maybe wishful thinking, but it should not be ruled out. There were rumours of a connection - that Harry sometimes saw what Voldemort saw."

Graf said, "I see - like a Bond. But if he is here - will he fight?"

"I believe so. He presents an easy-going front, usually polite, even respectful, but behind that... Well, I think he could be a formidable fighter."

McKenzie nodded, "I agree."

Harry was refused when he suggested they could find a cinema and see a film, but even television was something he seldom saw, with the result that he was still up and watching a movie when there was a knock on the door. Albrecht Graf entered, with Hans, McKenzie, Kingsley and Stewart.

Hans translated for Graf - "It's tomorrow at dawn. They're planning to raid the home of Werner Fuchs, who's refused to pay them off. Their excuse is that he's notoriously careless about showing magic to Muggles. Voldemort himself is to be there, and they'll be attacking with a force of twenty-five Death Eaters. Their intention is to leave ruins, and Fuchs dead with obvious signs of torture. They want to make people fear, you see. Fuchs is still there, though his wife and children have been removed for safety."

Mick asked, "The defence?"

"A dozen Aurors inside the warded area, plus as many as available to take them from behind and prevent attack. There's to be no resistance until the attackers have penetrated the outer defences, then trap them inside. The idea is to leave none to escape."

"Harry?"

"Stays close to myself and Hans until Voldemort appears. Then, what we'll do is protect Harry from all others, and he faces Voldemort."

Graf asked directly, "Is OK, Harry?"

Harry nodded, "I agree. But I want to point out that Voldemort is just a man. It's frankly silly to think that I'm the only one who can defeat him."

Graf looked at Hans, who quickly translated. Graf returned, again through Hans, "It's accredited Prophecy. We would not have gone to this much trouble otherwise."

There was another knock at the door, and when it was opened, a woman entered with a large bag in her hand and a cloak over an arm. She spoke English, "Combat clothing for Harry, as requested." She looked around at the grouping of men, singled out the youth, and smiled at him. "They gave me your measurements."

Harry accepted the bag, and pulled out the garments. Close-fitting trousers and jumper, lined with something. The woman explained, "Thin slices of treated dragon hide. They won't protect against a direct hit, but are some protection against the burns of deflected spells. Our Aurors always wear them when they know they're going into action. Three varieties of wand holster, as I don't know what you favour."

Harry commented, "I've never had a proper holster, just wand pockets in my clothes."

He held up some 'long johns,' very thin, and grinned. The woman laughed, "I'm told it will be cold waiting. The undergarments will keep you warm and will not hinder movement. There is a cloak as well, but only until you go into action."

Harry caressed the fur-lined cloak. It was very good quality. Hans said, "Kill the man for us, and you can keep it."

"It's illegal to kill people."

Hans repeated his words to Graf, who said, "In most circumstances, but not the Lord Voldemort. If you battle any other Death Eaters, use the Beundiya Stun to take them down."

"The Beundiya Stun?"

Mick said, "You've practised it. The BDF Stun, we call it. I've heard you boys refer to it as the 12 hour KO."

Graf asked, watching Harry intently, "All right, Harry?"

Harry nodded, "All right, Herr Graf."

Only when all the others left, did Harry again look at the clothing. Mick said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "Tomorrow at dawn."

Harry said slowly, "I'm really going into a fight. I'm quite sure that Voldemort is dead, but I'm still to go into battle."

"You do have the right to refuse."

Harry grinned ruefully, "Dumbledore would not agree that I had the right to refuse."

Mick didn't answer, just watching him. Harry shrugged, "I wonder if they let me keep the cloak if I bring down the one they _think _is Voldemort."

Mick asked probingly, "Why are you so sure it's not him?"

"We'll see tomorrow, I guess. If my head starts hurting, it really is him after all." He glanced back at the TV, and said, "I guess I never will see how it turns out."

***x***

Monday, 14th Feb. It was very early, before dawn. Hannah had tossed and turned all night, but finally slept deeply. Harry had slept peacefully, to Mick's surprise, but grumbled when he was shaken awake. Mick repeated, "Wake up. You have a half hour, and we go."

Harry showered and dressed, then looked at the holsters. Mick commented, "A few of us have wrist holsters, but they take practise. I'd recommend the thigh holster, as it's more what you're used to." Harry nodded, and Mick came and helped him strap it on.

Harry looked in the mirror. The grey close-fitting outfit with brown markings, and the odd sheen of the light scales. Mick's garments were similar, but there was no armouring of any description on his outfit. He was in black, a badge in rusty red. The badge of a British Auror, but much more subdued in colouring than the usual bright red. They each had a wand holster strapped to their thigh. He commented, "Not very discreet."

"You won't be seeing any Muggles today."

A brief knock, and Hans came in with Kingsley and Stewart, who were dressed the same as Mick. Hans was in grey, with brown trim, and a brown badge, the battle garb of German Aurors. They held cloaks over their arms. Hans checked they were ready, and held out a rope. "Portkey to inside the mansion. Herr Graf is already there, and our Aurors in position."

Mick said, "Cloak, Harry?"

Harry picked up his cloak, and grasped the rope, next to Mick.

He stumbled and fell on arrival, but was hissed to quiet, and Hans whispered, "The place is almost certainly under surveillance by the enemy. No loud noise."

Harry nodded, not saying anything, but wondering whether they were going to get breakfast. He was still growing fast, and felt it when he missed meals. A portly man, probably in his forties, fussed around the new arrivals, but he, too, was wearing clothing that would not impede action. His wand was not visible, but Harry had a feeling that this man, too, was prepared to fight. Hans murmured, "Werner Fuchs. It is his place."

Fuchs was staring at Harry, and suddenly nodded, and held out his hand for him to shake. Harry did so, and Graf grunted something in German that was not translated.

Hans said, "Put a Cloaking Spell on yourself, and we go very quietly to a particular shed, where there's good view all around. Then we wait." A Cloaking Spell, commonly known as a 'Don't Notice Me' Charm. It was not invisibility, and didn't work if a person knew or suspected someone was there.

Harry did as he was told, and the group assembled inside the shed. From inside, the walls appeared clear, not impeding the view at all. Herr Graf, two young German Aurors, Hans, and the four British, including Harry.

After an hour, the novelty had worn off, and Harry sat with his back to the wall and tried not to think about how hungry he was. Mick sat next to him, and asked, in a low voice, "All right?"

"Just hungry. If Voldemort was close, I would know."

"Can you really feel if he's close?"

"I haven't felt his presence for a long time, he hasn't tried to kill me lately, and there's no reward for my death any more. I think he's dead, and this is probably just a gang of ordinary crooks taking advantage of the fear he used to inspire."

Hans said, "Please do not talk. They may come any time." Harry leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. He should have brought a book.

The sun became brighter in the sky, and Herr Graf conferred with McKenzie. Maybe it was time to assume there had been a change of mind, or that Voldemort had been warned. Mick tapped McKenzie on the shoulder and pointed at Harry. Harry was on his feet, wand out, tapping against his thigh. He was staring through one of the walls, then looked around, and toward Graf. At that moment, one of the watching Aurors said quietly, "I see something."

A second said, "So do I."

Graf said, "Pieter, warn the others. Do nothing until I give the word."

Mick asked, "Harry?"

"There are a lot of them. He's not among them."

McKenzie said, "You can't be sure, and you did give the undertaking."

Harry nodded, "I did." He pointed, "There was one just move behind that long shed."

"The stables." At that moment, there was a high pitched whinney as a horse was disturbed. Harry was surprised - he hadn't thought that wizards might like to ride horses.

There were more horse calls, and then a flicker of fire at the corner of the stables. Fuchs emerged from the house, wand out and yelling furiously about his horses. Graf called for immediate action to protect him, and the battle commenced with Fuchs going down, though probably only stunned, and two Aurors dousing the flames of the stables, another freeing the horses which galloped around frantically, spreading confusion. Graf stood calm, assessing the situation, and issuing orders. McKenzie was beside him. Kingsley, Mick and Stewart were ready to defend their position. Harry waited, Hans beside him.

After a time, the run and hide battle devolved into two opposing forces, the enemy trapped against a stone wall. There was a call, "It's him. We need the boy."

Harry looked to Graf, "It's not him. I'd know."

Graf grunted, "Come!" and headed out the door.

Harry followed, wand at the ready. This was battle, and while he thought he was a peace-lover, there was something within him that had been itching to get involved from the moment he felt their approach.

Mick stayed at his side, and Kingsley and Stewart fanned out a little, behind him. The Boy Who Lived must not be killed by a stray spell. There was a sudden call in guttural German, and two of the enemy ran toward them, firing spells. Harry went into a fighter's crouch, and shielded. Neither was Voldemort, but they were attacking him, and those who were with him. He took one down, and Hans called, "The other one, Harry. That is Voldemort. That is their leader." A tall, slender man, wearing a black cloak and a Mask.

Harry's defenders took a step back, leaving him on his own. Harry called, "I guess you'd best face me, Mister. They think you're a better man than you are." The man shot a spell at him, and then tried to run, but turned back by the numbers. He turned again to face the lone boy who appeared to stand between him and freedom. _Avada Kedavra_ a second time, but Harry stepped aside, and before the man could recover and try again, he used the Beundiya Stun. A shield again, against a volley of spells from behind a shed. Mick had the bit between his teeth, and ran to flank the group of enemy. Harry followed him, backing him, and defending him against attack. It was Mick who took down that group, while German Aurors roamed, seeking out fugitives.

Quiet at last, and Mick grinned at Harry, "You might get breakfast now."

Graf was still looking around, alert, directing the clean up operation. He then turned to Harry, and Hans translated his words, "Well done, but it appears you were right. This man does not answer the description of the feared Dark Lord."

McKenzie said, "I suggest you check their left forearms. See if any bear the mark of the original Voldemort."

Only one did, and it was very faded. McKenzie studied it for a long time, and then looked at Harry. _Could_ the feared dark lord be dead? Harry also looked at it, and offered, "My forehead scar's also fading. Maybe you should start searching for hidden places where his body might be lying."

McKenzie asked suspiciously, "You haven't already faced him, have you? Maybe in the summer?"

"The last time I saw his face is when he attacked Hogwarts, September before last."

"But only you can kill him."

"I've never believed that. He was always just a man. Maybe one of his followers finally got fed up, or maybe he just died."

McKenzie grunted, and said grudgingly, "Well done, by the way. You fought well."

Graf was a lot more generous, shaking the hand of the boy and beaming, Hans beside him, translating his congratulations. It may not have been Voldemort, but the group had been causing real problems, and now it was at an end. Harry said innocently, "Maybe I should stay a few days, just in case. Maybe he's in a hideout, and one of these will tell you where. Maybe it doesn't matter if word gets out I'm here, because then he'll come to try and kill me."

Hans quickly translated, and Graf smiled and returned, "And maybe you could see the sights of Munich. Maybe you will find him hiding at the zoo!"

Harry grinned, "Among the chimpanzees? I'd love to go to the zoo."

Graf smiled, "We will need you for a few days yet. Enjoy yourself, and I will call you when needed."

Wednesday at breakfast, and Hannah laughed at the post card picture of an Orang Utan looking mournful. The words: 'Couldn't find him at the zoo. Guess I'd best come home soon. Say hello to everyone for me. Harry.'

Dumbledore studied the picture of Harry on the front page of the Daily Prophet. He seemed to be at some sort of a fun fair, and was laughing, apparently unaware of the camera on him. There was the short news item relayed from German sources, that Harry Potter had been in some sort of a battle, had acquitted himself well, but that You Know Who was still on the loose.

At the Slytherin table, Draco said, "Well, Venetia. It looks like you didn't miss your opportunity after all. He'll be back."

"They could be using him as bait. He's protected here, and there, he's quite exposed. He might not come back."

Vayden remarked, "Our duelling classes would probably have ended if he had dealt with the Dark Lord."

"Mick said every one of us would qualify for a NEWT in the subject, even without any further tuition."

Dumbledore looked grimly at the news item, and considered how best to get Harry back, and as obedient as possible. It looked to him like they'd been spoiling the boy. Making him conceited and unmanageable, probably. He'd put a stop on his money, for a start. No money was almost as good as prison bars.

The German newspaper had several photographs of Harry - in a roller coaster, swimming at a heated pool in the hotel, and with one of the female Aurors. They'd taken the boy to their hearts, and given him more than his due share of credit for putting an end to the crime wave they'd been experiencing.

Zondra Vardrier's family was worried. They did not want their daughter to choose the one who was far too likely to be killed by Voldemort. Her grandmother admitted, "I met the young man who later became Lord Voldemort. He was called Tom Riddle then. I'd never felt such raw power, but he resisted me. I was shattered, even quite ill for a time. No man is supposed to be able to reject a Yusdu!"

Pieter said, "If he was strong enough for that, then a youth hasn't a chance against him."

Greta said, "It's very lucky she's in Sweden. And anyway, she might not want him."

Her mother suggested, "Why don't you ask Gunther to check him over? He's unmated, and will know straightaway whether Zondra is likely to want him." Once mated, the Yusdu lost most of their ability to sense a person's qualities.

The conversation was verbal. If it had been just Greta and Pieter, they would not have bothered with words. A Bijn Yusdu pair didn't need words. That the young Tom had even _wanted_ to resist Yusdu was incredible to Pieter Holler, who very well remembered when Greta had chosen him. He'd never looked back, and had long forgotten the ambitions he'd had as a young man. What could be better than being Bijn Yusdu, with a dozen children? He was proud of every one of his children.

Zondra was Yusdu, and took no part in public life. People were uncomfortable about Yusdu, no matter their sheer magnificence. Pieter and Greta's other children were all grown, and several in influential positions. It was a simple matter to find out where Harry Potter was staying, and even that his keepers were taking him to the main Munich Aniragia the following day.

Gunther's brother reported to him that the one he'd chosen to be his Bijn had a boyfriend, and was assumed to be sexually active. Gunther smiled in satisfaction. A high sex drive was one of the qualities Yusdu looked for. He wouldn't go near her himself until it was time. There was no point making her nervous. She'd be happy afterwards, of course. He'd never heard of a Bijn regretting being chosen.

He agreed easily to his aunt's request to inspect the boy that Zondra might fancy. Prophecies spoke of him, that he had the power to defeat the Dark Lord. Other prophecies spoke of 'The Child of Light,' though usually in such ambiguous terms as to be useless. He was safe enough himself. He was not actually mated, but he had Chosen, and anyway, it was a boy not a girl. Homosexual relationships did not occur in Bijn Yusdu.

Harry was thrilled with the wand-holster he'd just bought, made to be worn on the wrist. Hans demonstrated the wrist flick that would put it in his hand very quickly, and said that it was standard issue for German Aurors. "It takes practice of course, or it just shoots out onto the floor, which is either embarrassing or fatal, depending on the circumstances." It had taken all of the money paid to him for what Graf stated generously was a week's work, presumably including checking the photographs of the prisoners to try and identify them, as he hadn't been asked to do anything else.

He walked between Hans and Mick. Kingsley walked behind, alert for an attack. Both Fudge and Dumbledore were positive that Voldemort was still out there somewhere, marshalling his forces for another attempt to rule Britain. They expected that Harry was in danger, and Dumbledore had sometimes wondered if Harry would defeat Dumbledore by deflecting back a Death Curse, as he had done when he was just a small child. (He'd told Harry it was because of his mother's love.) Stewart and McKenzie, on the other hand, had returned home. It was not thought likely that Harry would run away now.

Everywhere they went in the Aniragia, people were pointing. The English boy hero, small and cute and harmless looking, with his shock of black hair, and wearing Muggle clothing, including his favourite leather jacket, now a little tight on him. Harry was beginning to be uncomfortable, and suggested that they have a wander around a Muggle area instead.

The Bijn Yusdu clan had representatives throughout German society. It was an extensive clan, wealthy and influential. Not all were known as Vardrier, as the non-Yusdu children took their father's name, as was customary in ordinary families. Only the Yusdu were always called Vardrier. It was unwise to be discourteous to such a powerful clan, and consequently, Hans was cordial when Gunther hailed him. He made the introductions, Gunther Vardrier, Auror Mick Larkin, Harry Potter.

Harry was polite, but Gunther became very still, staring at him. Harry looked at him, then took a sudden step backward. Gunther advanced, and Harry stopped moving. Mick looked at Hans, puzzled. Hans took a sudden step forward, and put a hand to Gunther's shoulder, trying to be firm. "He's just a boy, Gunther. Leave him alone." Kingsley suddenly swore and drew his wand. Gunther made an abrupt hand gesture, and a shield surrounded himself and Harry, and pushed the others back.

Hans knew what was happening, and Kingsley, but Mick was totally confused. Hans called urgently, "You've Chosen, Gunther! You told us so. You don't want the boy!"

Gunther wanted the boy. Thin, wiry, fit. Highly intelligent, and with a strength of will. But it was the power that drew him. He'd never felt anything like it! Gunther was consumed by his want. He'd forgotten any other considerations. Harry stared back at the golden man, as filled with lust as Gunther was himself. He had no thought of escape or fight.

Kingsley started systematically trying to break the shield, but was unable to do so. Yusdu were extremely powerful when it came to times like this, when they chose a mate. Hans yelled, "He can't give you children, Gunther. You need children for the clan, and this is a boy! He can't give you children."

Gunther groaned. What was he doing? He wrenched his gaze from the green eyes that tore a hole in him, and took a deep breath. He looked briefly back at the youth, and touched his cheek, "I'm sorry." He dropped the shield, whirled and strode away. Harry swayed and would have fallen except that Kingsley grabbed him and led him to a convenient garden seat. Harry started trembling violently. Kingsley sat next to him and waited. Harry dropped his head forward between his knees, trying not to faint. After a while, he asked quietly, "That was Yusdu?"

"Gunther Vardrier. The Vardriers are Yusdu."

Harry complained feebly, "I'm not a girl!"

"I would never have expected him to go for a boy."

"I had no defences. I didn't even _think_ of defending myself." There was a flash of light as someone took a photo, and Harry looked up resentfully. He hadn't noticed the earlier photos being taken as he stared, hypnotised, at the golden wizard. There were people still watching, as well. Yusdu only showed their full power in that particular context, taking a mate. None of them had seen it before.

Mick asked quietly, "Are you ready to leave now, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, reddening. His physical excitement still hadn't subsided, and he was quite sure it would be obvious to everyone if he stood up.

Kingsley glanced at his lap, and said casually, "No hurry. We could go swimming when we get back to the hotel if you like."

"What made him change his mind?"

Hans said, "I pointed out that you couldn't give him children for the clan. Bijn Yusdu like children."

Harry asked uneasily, "Are there others like that around?"

"Only one unmated one, and she's out of the country."

"A woman." Harry gave a rueful half-smile, "I guess at least I'd get to be on top if it was a woman." But then he shuddered again, feeling ill. He knew exactly what would have been happening by now if the big man hadn't changed his mind. And he wouldn't have raised a finger to stop it. That's what sent shivers through him more than anything. That he'd had not the slightest thought of resistance.

He stood up. He couldn't stay here all day, and the crowd was beginning to swell. Probably they would be too polite to look just there, and anyway, it probably wasn't as obvious as he was imagining. He had a feeling it might be a while before he felt normal again.

Gunther Vardrier raised himself from his convenience, and touched her face. "I'm sorry, Katinka. I was far too rough." Katinka continued to cry and it was no wonder. He'd been almost berserk with his desire, had torn her clothing, and now there was blood. He'd never made a woman bleed before. He was very remorseful, and kissed her. She pulled away from him, fearful. He said kindly, "I'll free you, now, Katinka. And I will put money in your account for what you've done for me. You won't see me again."

Katinka's sobs began to subside. It was over. She'd been mad for him, but now it was over.

Gunther said sadly, "I am sorry I hurt you, little one."

Gunther was a man of his word. Without delay, he arranged a large amount of money to go into Katinka's account, the equivalent of a year's salary. The young woman who worked in the bank was slightly built, with an elfin face, and no wedding ring. She paused briefly in her work, but refrained from pressing her hand to where it hurt. But then the unpleasant sensation was gone, and she forgot it. Gunther had chosen a replacement for Katinka.

Harry was subdued that evening. The pleasure had gone from the trip. Graf wanted him to go with him to check what was supposed to be the abandoned headquarters of the real Voldemort, and that was for the following day, but then he was ready to go home. There were no Bijn Yusdu at home.

Herr Graf and Dachier Kuhnast joined them for dinner. There was some polite chitchat - Kuhnast told him it had been a pleasure to have him visit, and Graf said that it showed how one could misinterpret Prophecy... That his presence had not been necessary, and then added kindly, "You did take down two by yourself, of course, and Auror Larkin, another three."

Mick said casually, "I took down four, and Harry backed me."

Graf confirmed, "Four."

Mick said, "We nearly lost Harry to a Yusdu."

Kuhnast replied, "I heard. It never occurred to me he was at risk. Not only has Gunther already chosen the one who's to be his mate, but also the partner of a Yusdu is always physically perfect, large, tall, muscular. They choose the best in all respects. Harry's slight build - well, it would be very unusual for one such as him to be chosen."

Harry made an effort, "I have very much enjoyed myself here. I have to thank you for giving me a good time."

Kuhnast said warmly, "It was our pleasure. And I'm told that you're to keep the battle clothing. The outfit was made for you."

Harry smiled, "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Dachier."

"A warrior needs good battle clothing."

Two tall, handsome men came to their table, and greeted the gathering. The Dachier returned their greeting, and then introduced Johann Wolff and Pieter Holler to the English. Johann said in reasonable English, "We came to make Gunther's apologies to you, Harry. He is my son, Pieter's nephew. He thought it best that he did not come himself."

Kingsley said stiffly, "It is unforgivable, to try and take a boy like that."

"Gunther explains that he never intended any such thing. He said he lost control."

Harry asked, "Don't Yusdu die if their partner dies?"

The men looked at each other, and Pieter said, "I would not want to live if Greta died. But Bijn Yusdu are healthy and long-lived. It is not a concern."

"It would have been if Gunther had taken me. It was something explained to me years ago, that I have to kill Lord Voldemort, or be killed by him. But it's only recently I've come to realise that when he dies, I will also die. We're Bonded, you see. Not like a loving bond, but powerful. When one of us dies, the other also will die. It is the way it is. If I am taken by Yusdu, that man or woman will not live long."

Johann asked, "How close a bond? Can you know what he is thinking?"

"When he is close, I can, and often in my dreams. He likes to kill, and each time, it hurts me. He likes to torture, and that nearly kills me. There are times when I see through his eyes. It is a Magical Bond. He is my brother, just that things happened to him that changed him."

Johann bowed briefly to Harry, and Pieter followed his example, "It was a pleasure to meet you. It is unlikely you will ever be frightened by Yusdu again."

Pieter said softly, "You would not have regretted it, you know, Harry. It is a great happiness to be loved by Yusdu."

Only when they'd left, did Harry say, "Actually, to be loved by male Yusdu sounds to me like it might be bloody painful!"

Hans said, "Zondra is stunningly beautiful. She's been looking for a mate, including inspecting the Aurors. I was hoping, but she didn't even notice me. It's a lucky man gets chosen by someone like that."

"What if you don't want to be chosen? What if you were already married?"

The Dachier said firmly, "The Vardriers respect marriages. They will not take a Bonded man or woman."

Harry said, "I heard that the Yusdu dominates."

"Maybe you didn't know. I am a son of Bijn Yusdu. There was no question of dominance between my parents. They were very happy, depended on each other, and were wonderful parents."

Kingsley asked, "You're related to Gunther and Zondra then?"

"Gunther is Zondra's cousin, my second cousin. I was very surprised to hear of his behaviour today."

Kingsley joined Mick and Harry in their room that evening, and Kingsley asked, "What you said about a bond with Voldemort. How much is true?"

Harry yawned, but replied, "Not much. I was hoping it might prevent a recurrence."

"So there's not a bond?"

"There was a connection, but I haven't felt his presence for months. It's why I think he's dead."

Mick said, "That Gunther! Hard to imagine that it would be an equal loving partnership between Gunther and his chosen partner."

Kingsley nodded, "The Dachier is likely to be favourably biased toward them. And after all, every single Bijn Yusdu couple live in this one area. If the partners were truly free, you'd think that some would prefer to live away, maybe not give up their old jobs."

***chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Terms used: Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English._

_**Chapter 13:**_

Friday, Auror Mick Larkin escorted Harry back to Hogwarts in time for lunch, and then returned to London to make a full report. The incident with Gunther, and the aftermath, the story, possibly lies, possibly truth, about Harry's 'Bond' with Voldemort, but especially, that Harry had spent most of the night muttering in his sleep until he'd woken himself calling out desperately to 'Tom.' McKenzie requested more details.

Mick replied, "I didn't wake him, just listened. He was mumbling mostly, crying sometimes. When I could distinguish words, it was usually 'Tom, where are you?' And when he did wake, he wanted to go walking. He said he always walked for a bit when he had bad dreams."

"Did you permit it?"

"No. Just organised a hot milk drink. One of his dorm-mates told me he did that sometimes when he had nightmares."

"If he thinks he will die if he kills the Dark Lord, it's understandable that he's been reluctant to go after him."

"I didn't think he knew there was that expectation. But besides that, _could_ Voldemort be dead?"

"I think if he was alive, he would never have tolerated the copycat Death Eaters. And MacNair's Dark Mark was so faded. I'm beginning to think it's a real possibility."

"So what about the Prophecies?" Prophecies were a part of the culture, regarded as a form of magic.

McKenzie said thoughtfully, "I might consult with McCardle, maybe Price. It's their area of expertise."

"I've heard that Granny Abbot is the absolute best. Never wrong!"

Meantime, Harry was at lunch, sitting next to Hannah and fielding questions from those around them. Yes, he'd been on the edge of a battle, but not very much involved, yes, he'd been to the zoo, and to a fun fair. No, Voldemort hadn't been there.

Susan asked, "And how many girlfriends did you find there?"

Harry shook his head, "Not a one. And I had Mick with me almost twenty-four hours a day, minding me. He has a week off by the way, so no Duelling class until Monday week, Chris."

"If you had dealt with the Dark Lord, they would probably cease for good."

Harry nodded, "Probably."

"So what were they?"

"Criminals, using his name as a shortcut to infamy."

Chris asked for details of the battle, and Harry supplied them, and promised to show him the battle gear the German Aurors wore. He said nothing about nearly becoming Bijn Yusdu, and hoped it would not become known.

Then he turned to Hannah and asked, "Well, I'm back, and I _might_ have been a conquering hero if I'd had the chance. Will you go out with me, now?"

Hannah laughed, "Next Hogsmeade weekend then. There's one for just senior years, not tomorrow, but the weekend after."

Harry had already checked that Ron had his money orders for him, cashable at any Muggle or wizard bank, and quite a few wizard stores. He said, beaming, "There's a restaurant. We'll go there for lunch."

"Madam Puddifoots?"

Harry made a face, "Isn't there another, set back a bit from the main street?"

"Far too expensive."

"I've been promised access to my money. I can finally afford to do what I want."

Hannah looked at him with some alarm, and said, "We'll go in a group, and I don't want to go a restaurant."

Harry protested, "That's not even like a date at all!"

Hannah was still feeling pressured, and stated, "We're not dating. Just you can join us if you wish."

There was an awkward pause, and Susan said, "You haven't actually been to Hogsmeade for a long time, have you, Harry? There's been a few changes."

"Both pubs had to be rebuilt. Someone told me that."

"Several others as well. The new bookstore is twice the size now."

Harry was very tired, having slept so little the previous night, and still depressed, though he'd tried not to show anyone. Luckily it was only a double period of Construction in the afternoon, which was undemanding, and then it would have been Duelling, if Mick had been there.

When the other sixth years looked for him when their own lessons finished, they found him sound asleep on his bed, still dressed, and apparently not yet even unpacked. They had to rouse him for dinner and might have left him if Neville hadn't pointed out that he was still too thin.

The weekend was uneventful, except that Venetia had her wish, and Trevor did not. Harry could not see any attraction in a male body. The excitement that had seized him when Gunther Vardrier had looked at him... That had been something different, which he preferred to forget about. Only sometimes in his dreams, a pair of golden eyes looked at him, piercing him, and leaving him paralysed with raging desire.

He wasn't sleeping well, but he always drew the curtains around his bed and put up a Silencing Shield. He thought that no-one knew. It was just the same old thing, the desire for the closeness of someone... Not the big golden man, and not Tom, who'd been half-mad as well as evil. Or maybe Tom as he could have been, if only life had dealt with him more kindly. Sometimes, Harry was overcome with guilt - that he never had tried to talk to him. Could they have come to a different relationship? The damaged child Tom, to whom he'd told bedtime stories... He'd not been evil then.

Monday morning, and back into the routine. Defence would be first up, then Arithmancy, then a double period of Potions. That was the morning. Hermione had her copy of the Daily Prophet at breakfast, studied the picture of Gunther and Harry staring at each other, and read the article. She passed it to Harry, and said quietly, "You didn't tell us about this."

Harry glanced at it and swore.

Ron asked curiously, "What is it?"

Harry said tersely, "I was nearly taken by a Yusdu. His name was Gunther Vardrier."

"_His _name?"

Harry nodded, "He changed his mind."

Hermione said, "They say he put up the Yus Shield to prevent interference. A Yusdu only ever uses that when he Claims his mate."

Ron took the paper, and chortled, "He looks bloody big! You wouldn't have been sitting down for a week!"

Harry shuddered and glanced over at Hannah. He hadn't sought her out since she'd told him so firmly that they were not dating. Would a Marriage Bond be a curtailment of his freedom? It was said that even with the lightest degree Marriage Bond, a spouse was never tempted to stray. But if one had that closeness, why would a man want to stray? And he'd be proof against the siren call of a Hecatema, and probably unbothered by Yusdu. It was on his mind that there was a mature, unmated Yusdu woman, plus three or four children growing up. If Gunther had been sufficiently attracted to forget that he was the wrong gender, then one day another might seek him out. Maybe it was best if Voldemort's body remained undiscovered a good, long time. And maybe he'd best marry early.

Draco, Heather and Trevor sat down beside them, Heather with a copy of the paper. "You've been having adventures, my sweet?"

"The funfair was best."

Susan whispered to Hannah, "He's looking at you again."

Hannah reddened slightly, and looked down at the table. Seamus said, "There was a Hecatema asked for him, and according to the article, a Yusdu wanted him, and they only choose the best. Don't you think you're being a little over-particular, Hannah?"

Malene piped up, "I think you're being thoroughly mean, actually. People are still saying he won't survive the year, and you won't even give him what he wants."

Hannah said snidely, "I hear _you_ did. And anyway, does he want anything more than as many girls as possible go to bed with him?"

Seamus said calmly, "We were teasing him about that. He said he doesn't believe in saying no, but he still hasn't succeeded in seducing anyone. He says he doesn't even know how to go about it!"

Susan asked curiously, "So how was it, Malene?"

"It was just before he left for Germany. I thought... I just wanted to have something... He was going to be killed, very probably. That's why I asked, and he agreed, and he made me feel beautiful and special, and I made him happy."

"Where did you go?"

"I won't tell you, but he just waved his wand about, sort of vaguely, and it became private and warm, and he said there was a Silencing Shield, just in case we wanted to say anything private."

"Can he really conjure bed and bedding?"

Malene giggled, "Yes."

Hannah cast a quick glance at where Harry sat, and said, "The Slytherins are teasing him. We might never have seen him again, and they're treating it like a joke!"

Susan laughed in triumph, "You _do_ like him, don't you?"

Hannah pushed her plate aside, and said, "I just don't want to see him killed or taken away. And I think it's you lot who are mean. Sometimes I think no-one cares that he's going to die!"

Malene said very quietly, "I care."

Susan said, "We all care, Hannah. Maybe some of us just have different ways of showing we care."

Harry said to Draco, forcefully, "I have no _idea _why he wanted a stunted shrimp! Now excuse me, I want to try and see Trimble. There's something I want to ask him."

"How to resist a Yusdu?"

Harry was already getting up, "If I'm to do the Defence NEWT with the seventh years. I might be able to drop it then."

Draco was astonished, "Surely the more practice you get in Defence, the better."

"If I could only drop a few subjects, I could do Aniragi with Professor Kent. I think he's right. We should all speak the language."

Draco nodded, "The Pure-blood families make a point of teaching their children. But maybe for you, German would be better, for when this Zondra comes for you."

Harry shuddered, and Draco laughed, "You're frightened she will come for you!"

Harry said shortly, "I prefer my life to be mine! No-one seems to think I have a right to my own life." He strode off, feeling thoroughly ruffled. All he wanted was to be ordinary, able to make his own choices.

Peter Trimble was still in his office, and nodded when Harry asked if he was to do the NEWT exam, adding, "We were talking about it at a staff meeting. You're to do the exam for Duelling as well, and unless things have changed, there will be advanced tuition for you next year. You should really speak to Professor McGonnagal, but it looks like you can take Charms and Transfiguration NEWTs as well, if you choose, which will considerably decrease your excessive workload. Professor Snape says you're not advanced enough to do your Potions NEWT, and Professor Landen says you're doing too poorly to consider doing your Arithmancy OWL."

"I might appeal about that. I want to do the OWL this year, and qualify with a NEWT next year. Then I'll apply for a traineeship with Bagster Constructions."

"You brought down two of the criminals yourself, they say. Yet you still want to be a builder."

Harry didn't conceal his resentment, "My life is not about bloody Voldemort!"

Trimble rebuked him for swearing, and then glanced at his watch, "Talk to Professor McGonnagal or the headmaster if you have concerns. They're in charge of you."

"Has the headmaster said anything about summer?"

"Why? Are you planning on running away again?"

"I'm planning on being on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of September. Only if they pester me too much might I emigrate."

Trimble raised his eyebrows, "_Pester _you too much?"

Harry spoke wearily, "I was promised emancipation, but I'm not expecting it. I don't want to make an enemy of the Ministry, but at the end of July, once I'm adult, I expect to be as free as anyone else."

Trimble said soothingly, "We'd best go. We're talking about Exopoli aggression."

Harry sighed, "Yes, Professor Trimble."

He felt tired and depressed, and took little part in the discussion, even when a comment about Exopoli shielding turned to the Yus Shield, and then to the characteristically strong shields erected by Hecatemae. Vayden asked, "Could we have some shield-breaking tuition please, Sir? Just in case we ever have the opportunity?"

Trimble laughed, "If a Hecatema comes within range, why should I make competition for myself?"

Charlie said, "I've heard that youngsters almost never win a Hecatema. Just one day, maybe, when we're older."

"We will do shield-breaking, but the ones erected by Hecatemae not only can't be duplicated, but it's said that each one is different. And anyway, they only come along maybe once in a generation."

Cho Chang, one of the few women in the class, commented, "According to my father, some men waste their whole lives dreaming about Hecatemae, then one comes along, and they don't even hear the Call, or only in the second degree."

"Only a few in a hundred are First Order Called. The most powerful, but not all of them. Sometimes wizards not particularly powerful, but friends of the girl. It's a question - just how does nature decide who is suitable to be Soul Mate to a Hecatema?"

Cho asked, "So how do those Second Order wizards experience the Call?"

"As undirected lust. If there was a Hecatema Calling within range here, for instance, your boyfriend might become unusually pressing." And Muggle women were raped, and because the wizards were thinking less clearly than usual, there was likely to be a rash of pregnancies.

Charlie asked, "Does every wizard feel it in some degree?"

"Close relatives don't feel it, women don't, of course, sick or old men, or men who are handicapped don't, and homosexuals don't. Even to feel it in the second degree indicates a fit, strong wizard."

"Can a Second Order wizard take the Hecatema?"

"He seldom does, but he can. Even one who does not feel it at all. Just that they can't compete against the driven ones, and can hardly ever bring down the shields."

Blake Brooks suggested, "So maybe if one followed the most likely contender, waited for him to break the shields, and then stunned him. It could be done."

"It could be done. He'd still have to Bond the girl, and then he's tied up for months looking after her, and if she doesn't survive the blossoming of her powers, he will die. It's not something to be taken lightly, to give yourself to a Hecatema."

Harry queried, "To give yourself? Everyone always talks only about _taking _her, or Claiming her, or Bonding her."

Trimble said, "The unpalatable fact is that the Bonding is violent by its nature. But afterwards, the Soul Mate belongs to the Hecatema, just as much as she belongs to him. The Soul Mate tends to be regarded as dominant, but it's not really so. They're mutually dependant."

"Is it right that if a Hecatema is not Bonded within two weeks, she dies?"

"That is correct. Any time from ten to eighteen days. But that only happens if she's made the mistake of hiding herself too far away. She's seldom supplied with food for more than a few days, so if she's not taken by then, she'll weaken and the shields start to fail until someone breaks through. Once the shields fall entirely, anyone can take her. It may sound cruel, but that is nature. The one who takes her, saves her life, or that's how I look at it."

Harry was beginning to be intensely interested. "The new powers she develops. What can she do?"

"Her wand becomes irrelevant for a start. It's said she experiences the world on a different level from the rest of us. And also, it's like she can see through people. She knows what they're like, just by looking. She can even see how much inherent magical power a person has. Occasionally, she might be asked to check that a wizard child is not a squib, for instance."

"I hadn't read that."

"It occurs in a school context, sometimes. But no point even trying to use them in battles. They just seem to have an inherent distaste for battle, and once mated, the Bond-mate becomes the same."

Harry grinned, "Maybe one would suit me after all. I don't like battle."

Cho said, in a quiet but penetrating voice, "You can't give up, Harry. You're the Chosen One."

Harry said ruefully, "I very nearly was chosen. Do Bijn Yusdu go into battle, Professor?"

"The Bijn Yusdu can be fierce warriors, and as they're a close-knit clan, it is unwise to insult one of them. They rarely go into battle out of altruism, however. Only if their interests are served."

"What about Veela?"

"The Veela are different again. They tend to squabble among themselves, but seldom are a threat to wizards. On the other hand, it can be a fatal mistake to get between a Veela and her mate. But a battle, Light side against Dark side, or any sort of concept like that... They're simply not interested."

Cho asked, "There are male Veela as well, aren't there?"

"There are. They tend to be slightly built, delicate, and with the most beautiful, silky, pale blonde hair. Quite often, their chosen Soul Mate is also male, in which case, of course, there are no children."

"There are stories of male pregnancies amongst Veela, aren't there?"

"Just stories. A male couple can adopt. Hecatema pairs often adopt as well, though I'm not sure why. Bijn Yusdu always have large families."

Vayden said, "Well, Harry. If that big Yusdu had chosen you, at least you wouldn't have been expected to bear him children!"

Harry said thoughtfully, "I wonder how Dumbledore would have reacted if I had been whisked away."

Cho said, "You would have had to decline the Yusdu's offer, of course. We need you here."

Harry laughed. She just had no idea. Trimble explained, "The Chosen of Yusdu have no more choice over the matter than a Hecatema does. Only that they never fight, while a Hecatema always fights."

Cho said incredulously, "You must have fought him, Harry!"

Harry said slowly, "Maybe one could fight. If one was able to block one's mind off, totally, completely, one could resist."

"So why didn't you?"

"I'm only human, Cho. You know that. He had total control. I didn't even _think _of resistance. If he came again, or the woman came, I don't know if I could resist. Maybe with a woman, there would be no reason to resist."

Trimble said dryly, "One more reason to keep you well protected at Hogwarts then, Mr. Potter."

Cho was looking at Harry with contempt in her expression. It didn't bother Harry. He'd been keen on her once, but she was rather a silly type really, rather akin to Lavender Brown, only with more brains, at least in academic matters.

Arithmancy next, and Professor Landen was in a sneering mood. Harry handed in his completed homework and decided to raise the subject of being advanced to fifth year work a little closer to Easter. Kingsley's help had been an unexpected benefit of his trip to Germany. He'd made strides in the subject.

On Thursday, there was the third of the CC & R classes. This time, they were to do repairing and basic sewing, and were instructed to bring any clothing they had that needed repair or modification. Hannah looked hesitantly at Harry, hoping that he'd join her. She hadn't liked him almost ignoring her. Consequently, she gave him a brilliant smile when he sat down beside her, a bag of clothing in his hands. She asked, "What have you got there?"

"My robes are getting too short. There are hems, and they're quite new, so maybe they can be fixed instead of replaced."

Hannah said bossily, "Let's see."

Harry handed them over, and Hannah looked them over possessively, and pointed out that the material was quite unfaded. "No problem."

"Are we still on for Saturday?"

Hannah smiled at him, warmly, "I hope so."

Harry smiled back, "The headmaster promised I could come and go as much as any other student now. It was worth the trip just for that."

"I'm glad you came back."

Harry chuckled, "I wasn't really given much choice. Mick was invariably close, and only left me once inside the school gates. He even shared my bedroom, I guess so I wouldn't go adventuring at night."

Professor Banning smiled around at her large class, and said, "Do we have a few items for repair?" The lesson commenced.

Friday afternoon, and as far as Harry knew, the promised concessions from Dumbledore were still in force. He had his apparation license, and he even still had his passport, which he suspected might have been an oversight. He checked himself, and found the anti-disapparation charm still in force. The subject of such a charm was not supposed to be able to remove it, but Harry had begun to understand that such rules did not always apply to himself. He succeeded in removing the charm, and on a sudden thought, tried to apparate from one side of the empty room to another, very pleased when he succeeded. He no longer needed to go to a particular weak point on the grounds before he apparated. The tracking charm? There was still a tracking charm on him. Except for owls, the pets mostly lived in their owner's dormitories. Maybe he'd put it on Neville's toad.

Harry gathered up a few things, briefly visited Hedwig, and then went to the library. It was quiet, as almost all the other students were still at lessons, including the other Duelling students, who'd elected to practise, though Mick was not expected back until Monday. Harry hadn't quite realised before the trip that Mick Larkin was still a practising Auror, and paid as such.

Saturday was a clear and sunny day, even though still Winter. Automatically, he reached for his leather jacket, but put it aside. Too small.

Hannah found him waiting in the Entrance Hall as instructed, and said bossily, "You need a heavier jacket. Just because it looks warm, doesn't mean it is."

Harry smiled at her, "I have to buy one. Mine's too small." He added, "You look pretty."

Hannah blushed. She wasn't pretty, never had been, didn't expect to be. It was an odd thing about Harry. He didn't seem to look for prettiness. Of the girls he'd been with, only Malene would pass as pretty, maybe Venetia.

Harry asked hopefully, "Is it just you and me then?"

"And Ernie, Zack and the Patil twins. Six of us."

Ernie and Padma Patil came in then, holding hands. Ernie's prefect badge was very prominent on his chest. He looked disapprovingly at Harry, and said, "You need a warmer jacket."

Harry said mildly, "Hello Ernie. I didn't know you were going with Padma."

Ernie smiled at his date, "Since Valentine's Day."

Zack arrived then, and said, with a hint of a sneer, "Ah, the war hero!"

Harry nodded, "Hello, Zack." The Patil twins were all right, and Ernie in his own way, but he hadn't liked Zack since his scathing words the day they'd spoken of starting the DA Club.

Ernie glanced around, "All of us here? We'd best go."

Hannah said, "Madam Trimble's first. Harry has to buy some clothes."

Zack said, "I thought you didn't have access to any money, Harry."

"I have now."

"And you're allowed out?"

"Yes." Hannah took his hand, and Harry's spirits went up with a bound. He asked, "Is the joke shop still there?"

"It had to be rebuilt, but they stock Fred and George's products now."

"I heard they were popular."

Ernie said sniffily, "Quite foolish, most of their jokes. It's no wonder that Filch has a blanket ban on them."

"Fair go, Ernie. We need a little laughter in this life." Hannah squeezed his hand, and Harry smiled fondly at her.

Hannah wondered what it would be like to go to bed with him. He'd be the first, but she couldn't ask, and anyway, her mother would kill her! Her mother was not only Muggle-born, but a religious upbringing had left its mark. And maybe he did need those others. It must be hard for him, sometimes.

The group laughed and joked on their way to the front gate. The gates were closed as always. Two security guards manned it. One went over, and took names, the other stared at Harry. Finally, the first nodded, "You five OK. Harry Potter is not permitted to leave."

Harry said disbelievingly, "He promised! Freedom to come and go as much as anyone else."

"Sorry, Harry. You are not permitted to leave."

"Those are old orders, Jim. Dumbledore promised!"

"Circumstances changed when it turned out that it was not Himself that you defeated. He told us then. Far too dangerous." The guard's eyes dropped to Harry's wand. They hadn't seen him draw, but now it was in his hand, and tapping ominously against his leg.

Ernie grabbed his shoulder, "Don't be silly, Harry. Attacking a guard would be a criminal offense."

Harry's eyes wandered over the two guards, one of whom also drew his wand, and said warningly, "Harry, don't be silly."

Hannah said anxiously, "Professor Dumbledore only wants what's best for you, Harry. If he thinks it's too dangerous, it probably is."

Parvati said, "He knows things, Harry. Maybe he's heard he's on his way back. Maybe he's close."

Harry said, "He is not close and it is not dangerous. The old bastard just likes to think I'm under his control."

Hannah stepped back from him, appalled, and Ernie said firmly, "Don't speak of the Headmaster in those terms or I'll report your conduct."

Harry looked back at Hannah, and his wand disappeared, to the guards' profound relief. Harry put an arm around Hannah, led her a little away from the group, and said very quietly, "I can apparate with a passenger. We can go anywhere we want. London, Edinburgh, Brighton... Have a bit of fun, go to a cinema maybe, find a circus."

Hannah was horrified, "We mustn't! You mustn't! It's against the rules, and besides, terribly dangerous."

"It's not dangerous. I've been taught to apparate with a passenger, and as long as we stick to Muggle areas, no-one will know where we are."

Hannah said very firmly, "No. You must not think of such a thing!"

Harry looked at her, disappointed. Hannah said, trying to be kind, "The headmaster cares for you, Harry. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he puts his hand on your shoulder sometimes."

Harry spat, "The headmaster's a manipulative old fool. He does not care for me except as a tool to enhance his own prestige."

Hannah backed away from him, horrified. Harry hesitated, then spun on his heel and strode off, back towards the castle. Susan put an arm around Hannah, who had tears in her eyes.

Harry came across a group of fifth years, including Ginny Weasley. He paused, and called, "Ginny, can I talk to you?"

The next time that Hannah saw him, he had an arm around Ginny Weasley and wore a brand new leather jacket. Ginny winked at Hannah, and Hannah cried herself to sleep that night. She'd never had him, and now she never would. And he was going to die. Granny said so.

Several days later, McGonnagal handed a note to Dumbledore, "This was left on my desk, Albus." Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at the scrawl, and McGonnagal said, "The girl was obviously very upset when it was written."

"You know who it is?"

"I think so."

Dumbledore read, _It's not his fault, it's hers. Ginny Weasley's helping him leave the grounds, nearly every day. You have to stop Harry going out so he can live for a bit longer. He doesn't believe you care about him, you see. Please, please look after him. _Dumbledore said quietly, "Bring me this pest of a girl, please, Minerva."

"Miss Weasley?"

"There is no need to ascertain the identity of the other."

Dinner, and Harry looked around and asked, "Has anyone seen Ginny?"

Ron said, only half-joking, "Surely you can keep your hands off her for a short time, Harry."

Harry was surprised, "We're having a good time together. I'm not hurting her."

"She's only a fifth year!"

"She's turned sixteen and can make her own decisions. She'll soon tell me to back off if she chooses."

Ron glowered at him, but refrained from asking if he was going to bed with her. Hermione was quite sure that he was, even had a very good idea of the evening it had first happened.

Harry asked, "Hermione, she wasn't upset or anything, was she?"

"Not as far as I know."

Harry assured himself, "I showed her how to get to the kitchens, so she can get something to eat when she wants. She probably just got caught up in studying. She said she was behind."

"How are you going?"

"Doing the best I can. At least CC&R is finished with."

"You're staying here for the Easter break next week, I suppose?"

"I've been ordered to."

"Has Landen agreed that you can go in with the fifth years yet?"

"I'm doing well now. He has no excuse not to, yet he's still being stubborn."

The plates were largely cleared, and desserts made their appearance. One thing about Hogwarts, they were well fed. Dumbledore stood up, and said mildly, "Attention, please." There was almost instant hush. Dumbledore never bothered them with useless long speeches, and as he was so much respected, even worshipped, by most of the student body, he never had to ask twice.

Dumbledore spoke quietly, but there was a voice enhancement spell on the podium. They could all hear clearly. "As we know, our Harry is destined one day to defeat the greatest and most evil dark wizard for many generations. Merely because Voldemort has been quiet for over a year, is no reason to forget that he is a powerful and dangerous enemy. It is for this reason that Harry Potter, Child of Destiny, is absolutely not allowed to leave the school grounds. He must be protected until the time arrives for that predestined confrontation. Harry has unfortunately not been obedient. With the help of a girlfriend, he has been regularly leaving the grounds."

He paused, waiting for the buzz of comment to pass. Harry sat back, glaring at the headmaster. Dumbledore resumed, his voice sounding very serious. "Ginny Weasley has been suspended from attending classes until further notice. If anyone follows her example, that person will be expelled. We all want to help Harry face his difficult destiny, but we do it by looking after him, helping him study the subjects he needs to know. Not by helping him put himself in pointless danger. And certainly not by encouraging him to shirk his duty!" Dumbledore sat. There were a few hesitant claps, that quickly died away in the silence.

Slowly, Harry stood, and said, very clearly, "Ginny did not help me leave school grounds." He was seething, about to say a lot more, but noticed Snape's expressionless face and felt his warning. He whirled and stalked from the hall, straight to his dorm and started packing. Just a backpack, all the money he had, plus his miniaturised bookshelf, just in case he didn't return.

Ron came in as he shrugged himself into his new leather jacket. "Harry?"

"If I don't come back, will you please look after Hedwig for me?"

"Yes but Harry... Simmer down..." Harry disapparated, leaving Ron staring, blankly. He swallowed and decided to keep it very quiet. Hermione knew that Voldemort was dead. She was safe to tell. No point in telling anyone else. Harry had a theory that the portraits and even the suits of armour reported to the headmaster.

Mrs. Weasley almost didn't recognise the figure at the door for a moment. The last time she'd seen him in person was when he'd stepped off the train after fifth year. He'd looked like death then, small, pale-faced, fragile. Neville and Ron had stood close, protectively, and Fred and George had handled his trunk for him. Now Harry was much bigger and looked perfectly fit, except that his hair was an awkward length, neither short like that of youths and Muggles, nor long like that of a mature wizard. Ever since Arthur had returned with Ginny, she'd been furious with him, but the mother in her recognised the anxiety, and even more, the deep sadness that he thought he didn't show. She gathered him in her arms and Harry had to make an effort not to cry. A mother's love, even that of a borrowed Mum - somehow it brought his wound to the surface. After all this time, it should have got better.

He slept in Ron's bed that night, and was woken in the morning by Ginny caressing his face. He blinked at her, confused. She leaned over and kissed him. "I'm not allowed to be with you any more, Mum said. She doesn't blame you, but she says that it's best."

"I'm sorry you were suspended. It's your OWL year, too."

Ginny whispered, "Professor Dumbledore made me feel awful. He showed me just how irresponsible I was. I should not have encouraged you."

Harry gave a wry smile, "So who encouraged who? And we had a good time, didn't we?"

Ginny nodded, smiling. "We had a good time."

"And Dumbledore. You mustn't take too much notice of what he says. Do you know what Mind-Magic is?"

She kissed him after his explanation, but said, "It still has to end. Mum says."

Harry nodded and sighed.

He and Ginny came down to breakfast together, not surprised to see Kingsley and Stewart there. He asked, "Can I have breakfast first?"

Kingsley nodded, "Then back to Hogwarts."

"Ginny?"

Kingsley looked at Arthur Weasley, who said, "She's to have an early break, return after Easter."

"Four days suspension. I'm sorry, Ginny."

Ginny shrugged, "It's just an extended holiday. No problem."

Mrs. Weasley asked, "Will he punish you, Harry?"

Harry said deliberately, "If he tries to punish me more than I'm already punished, I will leave the wizarding world, never to return."

Arthur said, "He could freeze your money again."

"He probably already has. But if Alexander Kemp doesn't want me any more, then he has friends who probably do." Harry gave a small smile at the look of shocked consternation, and asked, "Would you like me to make toast, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly lost her look of stunned horror, and said crossly, "I don't believe you for a moment. From all accounts you enjoy the company of girls far too much to submit to anything like that!"

Ginny looked at Harry, puzzled, and then laughed. "Is that what they think?"

Harry grinned, "That's what they think."

Kingsley was very deeply relieved. He'd begun to doubt the theory fairly early, with Mick's reports of serial girlfriends, but there was no denying that Gunther Vardrier had excited the youth. Yusdu, of course, so maybe it shouldn't count. The British Aurors knew a lot more about Bijn Yusdu now, and had firm orders that Zondra Vardrier was not to be allowed to set eyes on Harry Potter, or only after Voldemort was quite definitely dead.

Harry sighed as Kingsley pushed him towards the gates, but he obediently walked through, nodding at Jim and Craig. It was mostly Jim and Craig in the daytimes. Tuesday morning, and he checked the watch that Tracey had given him. Tracey was very happily married, according to her sister, and was not planning on completing her education. Charms first, and Professor Flitwick greeted him with a smile, and said nothing about his tantrum or his escapades.

Arithmancy, and Landen seized the first opportunity to put him on Detention. Harry glowered at him, and slumped further in his chair. Simon whispered, "That wasn't fair!"

"Policy change, I guess."

It was confirmed later in the day, when he was also put on Detention by Professor McGonnagal. Inattention, she said. There was some justification, as he'd been staring out the window and missed half her lecture. On the other hand, he had a perfect vase of flowers sitting in front of him, the exercise of the day.

Construction cheered him a little, and Peter Trimble was fine in Defence.

He was on his way to his first detention when Snape spotted him in the corridor, and snapped, "Potter, my office, now."

Harry replied politely, "I beg your pardon, Professor, but I mustn't be late for Detention."

"After dinner?"

"A second Detention, Sir, with Professor McGonnagal."

Professor Landen looked at him as if he was scum, and he was supposed to risk his life for someone like that? He'd suffered pain and nearly died, for someone like that? A sacrifice for the wizarding world, who absolutely did not deserve his sacrifice. Harry felt a little ill. Why should he bother? What was the point? He made no objection to the mindless task of doing lines for Landen, and sat through a lecture by McGonnagal on duty and obedience, without complaint or bothering with any sort of a defence.

He was released before curfew, but didn't even look at any homework, merely curling up in bed, surrounded by a Silencing Shield. It was not that he'd loved Ginny, or was much disturbed by Hannah's perceived rejection. It was that the hole at the core of him had spread in his mind until he was just a hollow shell, going through the motions of life, pretending he had a future. Really, he was being silly. He should just end it. Go and be with Tom, who was no longer evil, and would no longer want to hurt him. He'd be healed then. Harry Potter looked inside his own mind, and found that particular spot, toying with the idea of giving that gentle, final squeeze that would end his life.

Only that he was very tired, and went to sleep instead.

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Terms used: Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English._

_**Chapter 14:**_

Kingsley was definite. "We could lose him. Not only that he could disappear, but Molly thinks he's terribly unhappy."

Molly and Arthur were included in the conference, since Harry had turned up at their place. Also Mick, who said, "He wasn't at PT this morning. And Neville told me he was worried. I think Neville knows him better than anyone."

McKenzie said, "And you said that the teachers have been told to clamp down hard?"

"Yes. Dumbledore has sealed up the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets in case there was a way out there, and found three weaknesses in the walls, and one in the aerial wards. He's positive now that Harry will not find escape."

McKenzie was tapping his fingers against the table in indecision. Going against Dumbledore could put his career at risk. He rose with decision, "I might ask the Minister to join us, I think. Kingsley, organise some coffee, maybe some morning tea."

Mick said gratefully, "I would appreciate that. I missed breakfast. Dumbledore was demanding I locate the boy instead."

McKenzie paused, "Did you find him?"

"I spotted him on his broomstick, heading towards the Forbidden Forest. He has some sort of a retreat there, like a tree-house. When I told the headmaster, he stated that Potter would have his broomstick confiscated."

Molly said softly, "Is he _trying_ to destroy the boy?"

"Merely bring him into line. All Potter has to do is pretend to think he's a god, like nearly everyone else does."

Mick said, "Remember the Mind-Magic accusation? I've watched Dumbledore, and I'm beginning to believe it. He has a habit of crossing his arms over his chest, and putting each hand in the opposite sleeve. He always wears dangling sleeves. Then he can touch his wand without being obvious."

"He wears his wand in his sleeve?"

"Yes."

Arthur asked, frowning, "Mind-Magic?"

McKenzie said firmly, "Please don't repeat it. There is no proof, and I don't know why Potter believes it."

Arthur said slowly, "Children can make their beliefs fit their desires, sometimes."

McKenzie said dryly, "So can adults."

"I have always thought Albus a very wise man. Even when I couldn't understand his rationale for his actions, I accepted it on faith."

Molly was looking doubtfully at her husband. It had been the same for her, but each time when Harry had come to her from the Dursleys, invariably half-starved, she'd been angry at the headmaster.

McKenzie glanced around at the assembly, and reminded, "Kingsley, a morning tea."

Cornelius Fudge and morning tea arrived at the same time, and Fudge's eyes immediately rested on a plate of sweet chocolate cakes. He had a fondness for sweet things, and Kingsley knew it. He was served with his coffee, before McKenzie started.

"Dumbledore is handling Harry extremely badly. Harry is already a formidable fighter, and we do _not_ want to provoke a revolt."

Fudge said, "Dachier Kuhnast contacted me last week. He wanted to know whether our promises to Harry were honoured. He pointed out that the boy took down the one he was told was Voldemort, without fuss or difficulty, as well as MacNair, who actually had been a Death Eater. He also reminded me that he'd had to dodge two Death Curses. He was the only target of Death Curses. It's why he wanted to award him a Civilian Services Award."

"Why did you refuse, Minister?"

"Albus told me we should not allow the boy to get too conceited. He said he was spoiled."

Kingsley said, "You should have seen his delight in just ordinary things. He told me that until last summer, he'd never been to the beach, never been to a fun fair, hardly ever been shopping. I don't think he is any danger of being spoiled by being an ordinary child for a few days!"

Mick put in, "The whole time, he was perfectly obedient, and did exactly what he was asked to do. And as a duellist... Voldemort's ability might be legendary, but Harry... It's lucky he's neither hot-tempered nor aggressive. I'd hate to try and arrest him."

McKenzie said persuasively, "Whether You Know Who is alive or dead, Minister, Harry Potter should not be alienated. I think we have to insist to Dumbledore that Harry be granted emancipation, and that he be treated leniently."

Fudge sighed, "You will come with me to see him then, also Kingsley. I will try and lay down the law to Albus Dumbledore."

"Try not to meet his eyes when he argues. That will avert the influence of any Mind-Magic he might attempt."

Fudge nodded, "Especially if I notice he has his hand up his sleeve."

Snape watched Harry as he went about making the Pax Roonkel Potion. It was an unusual potion, the Pax Roonkel. It was made to end life, but only the lives of those who were ready and willing to end their lives. Most wizards, when very old and ready to die, could simply die in their sleep. But magic became weak when a wizard was very old, and then he might request the potion. Sometimes a fatally wounded wizard might also request it, though in that case, usually the healer simply used a spell. Yet it was harmless to a healthy person. Healers were encouraged to try it when training. It had a pleasant taste. Harry went about the task methodically, but Snape noticed him take two vials of potion at the end, one for assessment, as was standard, and one that he pocketed. Now why should he have done that?

Neville hovered at the door when Snape called Harry to him at the end of the lesson. Snape asked, "Easter break? Do you still want to spend it with me?"

Harry replied indifferently, "I'm ordered to stay here."

Snape looked at the boy thoughtfully, wondering what was wrong. He said suddenly, "You're not doing very well, are you? Is it the broken bond still?"

Harry looked away. The broken bond? He said what he felt, "Sometimes it seems like I've done what I had to, and now I don't need to bother any more."

Snape grabbed his chin almost roughly, and looked into his eyes. Neville started coming towards them furiously, and shouted, "Stop that! Can't you see he's sick?"

Snape snarled, "Silence, Longbottom! I'm hardly going to hurt Harry Potter." Neville strode the last few feet, glaring at Snape.

Harry said quietly, "Go to lunch, Neville. The Professor won't hurt me."

Neville hesitated, and Harry said, "I'll catch you up in a few minutes."

"I'll be just outside. Call if you want me."

"I'll call."

Snape sat down at his desk and ordered, "Pull up a chair." He watched, frowning as the boy obeyed. "I saw you take a vial of the potion."

"You said it was harmless to someone who was healthy."

Snape held out a hand, "Give it to me." Harry handed it over, and Snape tapped it on his desk. Harry waited. Snape took out his wand, said the word for the Privacy Spell, and commented, "I have never allowed any portraits in this room or my office. Blabber-mouths, some of them."

Harry smiled slightly. Not many people took much notice of the portraits, but they could speak, watch, and they could visit any other painting in the castle. Snape asked, "Do you have any charms on you at the moment?"

"Tracking charm, anti-disapparation charm. I don't know when they were put on."

Snape nodded, then said definitely, "The headmaster will not allow you to leave. Are you able to, or do I need to help you escape."

"I can leave when I choose."

"I thought so. You are to come to me for the Easter break. That is an order, and you're to do what I tell you. You are not to take Pax Roonkel, and you are not to end your life. You will leave Friday, before the end of lessons. You're more likely to be able to get away quietly. Once out, you will meet me at an apparation point I will tell you, not my home. We're going right away from here."

Harry's spirits lifted, "Right away?"

"Right away, the same as we did in the summer."

Harry was profoundly grateful, and thought himself silly when there were suddenly tears in his eyes. Snape said briskly, "I haven't made full arrangements, but do you still have your passport?"

"Yes, Severus."

Snape put a hand to his shoulder, and said roughly, "You can get better. You _will_ get better."

Harry took little notice of Dumbledore when he was called to his office, and assured that the limitations on his movements were only out of concern for his safety. And Dumbledore looked at him, and said gently, "I care about you very much, Harry. Right from the moment I took you from your parents' home. You survived because of your mother's sacrifice. I know you well enough to know that you won't let her down, won't let _me_ down."

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore."

There were no more detentions, and then Landen said that he would go in with the fifth year Arithmancy students. At dinner, he was handed a new timetable for the next term, and McGonnagal said kindly that she was sure he would study hard, and show himself worthy of the special attention. Harry was finding it very hard to study, but didn't skip classes, and resumed PT in the mornings.

Friday afternoon, Mick asked where Harry was, and Draco answered, "Vince said that he hurt his foot in Construction, and had to go to Madam Pomfrey. I guess he's still there."

Mick hesitated, and then said, "Look after yourselves. I think I might check."

Dumbledore had given up on tracking charms, but he was aware that Arthur had put one on the boy while he slept. According to that, he was on his way to the Burrow.

Harry waited at Edinburgh Airport, his passport in his pocket, a quite small backpack at his feet. It held more than it appeared, like his miniaturised, foldable bookshelf, and a few keepsakes, in case he chose not to return. He'd assured Ginny that he was fine, and told her not to worry about him, but to look after Hedwig until he came back. Hedwig had the tracking charm, as Arthur Weasley would probably soon discover.

Dachier Arne Kuhnast was at the Ministry, pressing Vance McKenzie to shed light on the rumours that the Lord Voldemort was dead. He and Fudge were to go to Hogwarts that evening and present Harry with his German medal, and Fudge was intending to assure him full access to his money, plus freedom to come and go on his seventeenth birthday. Surely by then, it could be ascertained whether the Dark Lord was alive or dead.

***x***

Zondra said to her cousin, "What if I'm willing to take the risk? I can probably conceive one child at least. Someone with the power you describe - his children would be a real asset to the clan."

"If Voldemort's alive, you may not live to bear the child."

"You've chosen your mate, and yet you forgot her, and wanted to take a young man, who could never have your children."

"I can't stop thinking about him. I wish now that I hadn't stopped."

Zondra looked at him critically, and said, "You're too big. You might have damaged him irreparably."

Gunther admitted, "I might have. I've talked to a few people since, how to take a boy, and not hurt him. Or not hurt him much."

"Did he resist you?"

"He had no thought of resistance. A moment of fear right at the start, and then he wanted me." He smiled complacently, "Man or woman, who can resist a Yusdu?"

Zondra said uncertainly, "If I took him, you wouldn't try and take him off me, would you?"

"I was wondering about sharing. If he was bonding with you, and you maybe locked your legs around him to hold him still, I could take him then. Do the _silcieun_ at the same time, and he'd belong to us both."

"Why should I share?"

"Because if I hear that Voldemort's dead, I'm going to beat you to him. Maybe better to share than fight."

Zondra smiled, "A three-way Bond. I've always been fond of you, Gunther."

"We could practise. Not the _silcieun_, of course. Just the mechanics of the exercise."

Zondra laughed, "That would be a great deal of fun."

***x***

On the plane to a beachside resort in the South of France. Snape glanced at the boy beside him. Harry stared out the window. He'd scarcely said a word, just allowed Snape to take charge. It was like his spirit was gone. Snape thought of what the Healer had told him about broken Magical Bonds. That the death of a Bond-mate might not kill the other straightaway, but with a Soul Bond, such as the Vere Ultima Bond, or indeed, any bond strong enough to read each other's thoughts, its loss was almost invariably fatal within the year. That sometimes the victim of a broken bond could seem well for months, and then the end came quickly, the symptoms being increasing apathy and decreasing appetite. It was so unfair - that the boy should have done what was expected of him, at the cost of his own agonising pain, and could now die.

Severus Snape was going to do his best that the boy didn't die. The previous summer, what had seemed to heal him was the beach, his different surroundings, (Snape smirked to himself,) - and discovering sex. What had he said? That it was worth living simply in order to have as much sex as possible. He would give him what he could, different surroundings, and the beach. Maybe he'd discover a nice French girl. Harry had a magnetic personality that attracted people, all sorts of people. Even if he was the Boy Who Lived, Snape didn't think he would have had as much success with the Hogwarts girls if there hadn't been something else. He'd seen Trevor ogling him as well, especially as Harry became taller and stronger.

There had been the Yusdu, too. What was it that had attracted the Yusdu so much? It was unprecedented that a male Yusdu chose a boy, and one so slightly built. Further, once a Yusdu made it known that they'd Chosen, if not yet Bonded, it was expected that every other person was immune. Bijn Yusdu. It was not what he would have wanted for Harry, who should be a great wizard in his own right, not a mere shadow of one of the Golden Ones. Yet, what if a new bond was the only way to save his life?

Harry wasn't thinking. Only days after his return from Germany, Snape had been repaid for the expenses incurred in summer, but he didn't give a thought now to sharing the costs. There was a small meal served on the plane, which he toyed with and put aside. He wasn't hungry, hadn't been hungry for days. Snape noticed, but said nothing.

He said something later, when he had Harry standing semi-naked in front of him, inspecting, and then took his readings. He exclaimed, "For goodness sake, Harry! Why didn't you come to me before?"

Harry looked at him, mildly surprised at the sudden heat. Snape took the reading again, just to make sure it was really that low. His 'Life Vigour,' the vital force that was the essence of a person's wellbeing... Normal was 100, and Snape had measured Harry's as 105, the maximum regarded as normal. Now it was 74, the reading expected of a very old or very sick man. Snape paced rapidly back and forth. What was he to do with the boy?

Harry wandered to the window, looked out over the beach, and smiled. Snape sighed. There was no point returning him to Hogwarts, or taking him to St. Mungo's. That was another thing the healer had told him. There was no known treatment for a broken Soul Bond. He'd give him a few days, see what happened, and if he continued his decline, he'd take him to Munich and hand him over to Zondra Vardrier. The boy might not realise his full potential as Bijn, but he'd be happy. Only a Hecatema and her mate had as fulfilling a love as Bijn Yusdu.

Meantime, he ran a hand over Harry's shoulders, and said, "Better than the weed you were in summer." He stroked over ribs, far too clearly seen, but only asked, "How tall are you now?"

"Five foot, seven, last check."

"You still have regular medical checks." Harry nodded. Every fortnight, just another reminder that he was only a tool, not a person. Snape asked, "Does she have a Nisco?"

"No. She just measures height and weight, has a look at chest, tells me to eat more, asks how I'm feeling, and that's it."

Snape asked, "And do you tell her how you're feeling?"

Harry shrugged, and Snape said dryly, "I'll take that as a no."

Harry said hesitantly, "There's a beach..."

Snape smiled, feeling a sense of relief. Maybe after all, it would be all right.

Three days later, very early, Snape muttered a protest when Harry disturbed him. Harry tried to be more quiet, but he was in the habit of having a run in the early morning, and there was the most wonderful beach...

Snape smiled in satisfaction as he settled himself to go back to sleep. The readings were already improved, and the previous day, he'd noticed him eating ravenously. There wasn't a girl yet, but give him time.

Later that day, Harry said casually, "There was someone at the beach I like. And Marie said there's been a cancellation, so there's a free room. Not that I mind sharing, but not if she agrees that she'd like to watch a film with me tonight - in my room."

"Didn't you say you met someone at the Sports Centre?"

"I thought Gabrielle was lovely, but then this enormous fellow with bulging muscles was looking me up and down. She might have mentioned him... I really have to learn some languages."

"You were really planning on asking her to bed without even knowing her language?"

"I thought she actually asked me, but maybe she only wanted to know the time."

Snape laughed, "I guess you'd better learn a few languages!"

Harry grinned, "So I'll pay for the room, and maybe Tonette will start teaching me French."

The following day when Harry obediently reported to Snape for his daily check, he smiled in satisfaction. LV 90, energy high, an improvement in weight. The improvement continued, until the LV was back at 104. Snape slapped him on the back, and said, "Next time, the moment you start feeling as if it's not worth even eating your dinner, you come to me. That's an order. A very firm order."

Harry smiled, "Yes, Severus." Neville and Ron and Hermione cared for him, and Ginny, Fred and George, but every other adult who seemed to care for him - he never knew whether it was personal, or merely because he was the Chosen One, the one to finally defeat the Lord Voldemort. He valued the friendship of Severus Snape very much.

The following morning, they were sharing breakfast, and Harry made his suggestion, that Severus took credit for finding him and returning him to school. "You could tell them you persuaded me, that you can control me even. Then maybe for summer, Dumbledore will agree that you could be trusted with me."

Snape was surprised, "You want to go back?"

"Not yet, but maybe two days before school, you can boast that you have me safe."

"I could say that the telepathy classes had the effect that you have some trust in me. I claimed that before Christmas when I volunteered to help look after you."

"You were very good. I felt safer with you than anyone else."

Snape felt a surge of pleasure that he was trusted by the boy who was at once an abused child and an extremely powerful wizard.

Harry admitted awkwardly, "I know I was stupid. I sort of gave up a bit. There was no reason for that, and I'm better now."

Snape relaxed, "I'm glad. And I've been overcautious, I think. My role as a spy is still not known, and further, I suspect that the other Death Eaters are as relieved as I am to be free. He'd become dangerous to serve, fatal to refuse to serve."

"There were some new recruits after his resurrection, all the same."

"Very few. A few sons of Death Eaters were reluctantly offered by their fathers, the Ryan brothers, for wealth, I suspect, many who served at a distance, of course. But when it came to taking the Dark Mark, they were apt to emigrate instead. He could keep his inner circle obedient through use of the Dark Mark, but it had become too widely known." He gave a sad, wry half-grin, "How I could have felt honoured when he inflicted it! And even that was painful. A reasonable man does not hurt his followers."

Harry asked curiously, "Have you ever talked about it to anyone?"

"Seldom. Dumbledore knows the facts, but I guess I'm just not a talker."

Harry smiled, "I'm honoured then."

"School? If you're sure, I think it's a good idea."

Dumbledore stared at Snape in pleased astonishment. "You have him?"

"At my home. I found him by chance, wandering in Edinburgh and looking lost. I think he was quite relieved when I was firm with him."

Dumbledore nodded, "He's just a child still. It's easy to forget that."

"He's obedient. And I quite like the boy. You could just leave him with me for a couple of days, and I'll return him Sunday afternoon."

Dumbledore ordered, "Bring him straight back. I want Poppy to have a look at him."

"As you wish, of course, Albus. He is the tool of the Light. Our weapon. Yet do you think..." He hesitated. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and Snape said, "He is not unintelligent and is fully aware that he may not survive the fight with Voldemort. Luckily he has a desire to please the adults in his life. You may remember that from when you tried to have him master Occlumency."

Dumbledore nodded, "He tried very hard, but never managed to resist me."

"Telepathy was the same, but I did gain his trust, while he blames you for the limitations on him that he resents. I can convince him that any limitations I impose are only what he wants himself, for his own safety. I am finding it quite easy to manipulate him."

Dumbledore smiled, "Wanting to please us, being willing to sacrifice himself, is a consequence of his early upbringing. He was made to feel like something contemptible, so needs to feel himself worthy. He might pretend to himself that he won't go against Voldemort, but when the time come, he'll do it."

Snape smiled, "So it was deliberate. I did wonder."

Dumbledore said, "I made sure his life was never threatened, of course. But each time he was hit, or thrashed, or made to miss meals, it served our purposes."

Snape felt a little ill, but agreed smoothly, "You were always the strategist, Albus. I never understood why he took so long to rebel. But he's been disobedient twice now, so maybe a light rein might be preferable. Clamp down too hard, and he will rebel again."

Dumbledore frowned at him, thinking. It's what Fudge and McKenzie said, as well. He wondered if they quite realised how powerful a wizard Harry would be. He had to be kept under control. Either that, or maybe it was best if he was somehow weakened. He would not consider the spell that Dippett had used on the young Tom Riddle, of course. The seventeen-year-old had never known, and there was no change in physical appearance. Just that afterwards, he lost his desire for sex, and had been supposed to lose his desire to dominate others. That one had backfired tremendously, though Dippet swore it had worked nicely on an earlier troublemaker with too much power. One of the headmaster portraits from the seventeenth century had also used it. Three times, and asserted that it had been very effective, the wizards becoming far more peaceful as a result. But then, Harry Potter was usually peaceful, and it would be a shame if the Potter family quite died out, as so many of the old families had done. In any case, he'd do nothing until he knew that Voldemort was really dead.

Snape offered, "Poppy will probably be quite happy to come to my place to look him over. Yourself as well if you like. I think you'll be happy he's sufficiently subdued."

Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the desk, and finally nodded. "Very well. Better that he goes to you than we lose him."

Snape said respectfully, "I think so too, Albus."

The respectful tone did it. Dumbledore forgot that he'd intended severity, and thought he'd turned Snape to his way of thinking. He asked genially, "When would you like us to come?"

Snape was very pleased with Harry's performance that evening. He was quiet and subdued, and when Dumbledore and Pomfrey arrived, he was working on an essay for Defence. Dumbledore said severely, "Well, Harry? You left without permission. Again."

Harry looked down at his books, and said, quietly and humbly, "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Did you find your Mr. Kemp again?" Harry didn't answer but his head drooped a little more.

Dumbledore said harshly, "Answer me, Harry!"

Harry said, very quietly, "I was too old. He didn't want me."

"I see."

Harry said, "I'm very sorry, Sir. Professor Snape explained how anxious everyone was."

Dumbledore changed tactics. "Very well, my boy. But this term I expect you to work harder, especially with Professor Larkin."

"Yes, Sir. I'll do the best I can, Sir."

Dumbledore studied the bent head of the boy, apparently remorseful. He asked in a gentle tone, "Look at me, Harry." Harry looked up, and Dumbledore ordered, "Tell me how you left the grounds, Harry."

He had his arms crossed, each wrist buried in the opposite sleeve. Harry looked at him frankly, exerted his own Mind-Magic, and said, very respectfully, "Please don't ask me that, Sir. I cannot tell you." Dumbledore accepted it, and Snape cheered the boy. Defeating the expert at his own game. What a wizard Harry would make! Yet he wanted to be a builder?

Madam Pomfrey asked, "Where should I take him for his examination?"

"What do you check?"

"Weight, usually height, though not this time, general fitness, just a general check."

Dumbledore said casually, "Perhaps you should check for sexual abuse." Harry threw a look at Snape. He had no intention of consenting to that, no matter how humble he was trying to act.

Madam Pomfrey asked, "Harry, do you wish me to do anything further than normal?"

Harry was quiet, but definite, "No, Madam Pomfrey."

The nurse said, "In the case of a teenager, doing an unwanted examination is sexual abuse in itself. Harry has the right to refuse."

Harry gave her a glimmer of a smile, and Snape said, "Harry, take Madam Pomfrey to your bedroom."

Harry stood straightaway, and Madam Pomfrey followed him.

She smiled at him when she had him alone, and said, "Being very humble, aren't you, Harry?"

Harry hesitated, unsure how to reply. The nurse laughed, "It's all right, Harry. The headmaster doesn't take defiance very well. I know that."

Harry grinned, "I was at a beach again for a while. It was a lot better than staying at school, lonely and miserable."

"Harry... About _Him._ I mean, is he dead?"

"He must be. I never believed that only I could kill him. They might leave me alone when they finally realise. And I really think it's safe to use his name!"

Pomfrey shook her head, "When they find his body, then I'll feel myself safe again. I lost my husband, you know."

"You've seen it when he hurt me, Madam Pomfrey. Sometimes it was aimed at me, and sometimes it was when he killed someone, or tortured someone. That hasn't happened since... I think the last time was when I was watching the last Quidditch match of the year. I don't have dreams of what he's doing any more. If he's not dead, at least he's gone a very long way away."

Madam Pomfrey patted his shoulder, and said shakily, "I hope so, Harry. I hope so."

Harry asked, businesslike, "Do you want me to take off my shirt?"

The nurse pulled herself together, and said, "Shirt off. Just the usual."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

Dumbledore asked the nurse, as they re-entered the room, "Well?"

"He's fit and healthy, though no further increase in weight."

"Good enough." He rose, and said to Snape, "Return him Sunday, Severus. I'll be very disappointed if he absconds again."

Harry said earnestly, "I want to finish my schooling please, Professor. One day, I want to have my own building firm. But meantime, if you say so, I'll study Defence and Duelling."

Dumbledore was appeased, "I do say so, my boy. It may seem hard to you now, but you will thank me one day."

"Yes, Sir."

Only after they left, did Snape smile at Harry, "Well done."

Harry slumped in a chair. "The bastard wanted me humiliated." He looked up seriously at Snape, "I think maybe I should try and know what he's thinking. He doesn't wish me well."

Snape said, "He has skills himself, remember. If you try and probe, he will feel it. Just knowing his surface thoughts - he won't feel that."

"You have those skills as well."

"You didn't want to learn them, remember?"

"If it's a matter of self-defence, I will learn what I need to learn."

Snape said calmly, "I don't believe he would seriously harm you, even if he does like to be in charge. And once he knows Voldemort's dead, he'll forget about you. He is not a person who likes to hurt."

"He left me with abusive guardians. Would he not hurt me?"

"He manipulates people. He didn't do it only in order to have you hurt."

"I think he liked me there so as to keep me humble."

Snape asked, "Did they knock you around much?"

"Not a great deal. A beating once in a while when I really upset them. And my cousin used me as a punching bag." He grinned, "It's how I developed quick reactions, dodging the sly punches. But after Hagrid came for me, there was never anything more than being shoved around a bit. All the same, I don't quite understand why I kept tamely returning every year."

"Because Dumbledore said?"

Harry frowned, "Partly, I guess. Just that now it seems so spiritless."

"You had no money, as I understand."

"If I'd kicked up enough of a fuss, surely someone would have taken me in. I did consider going to Muggle community services, but was too afraid of my uncle. The most severe beating I ever had was when I complained of abuse to a teacher. I don't know if she did anything more than ask my uncle about it. When I returned to school, she took care never to look at me."

"And you think that Dumbledore knew of this."

"I told him I was never given enough to eat. I didn't tell him there was physical abuse, and anyway, as I said, that stopped after Hagrid put a scare into them."

"You've never told anyone this, have you?"

"I guess not."

Snape offered casually, "Would you like me to punish them for you?"

"They were victims of Dumbledore. They hated and feared magic, and he forced them to look after this annoying brat who caused strange things to happen, sometimes. They're not wicked people. Punishing them would serve no purpose."

Snape said, "My father was abusive. After a while, an abused child comes to believe that he deserves it, and that not only will no adult help them, but his shame stops him admitting he needs help."

"Probably something in that." With an abrupt change of subject, Harry said, "I have homework, and I didn't bring any of my books. Do you think it's safe to go and get them?"

"You'll be seen."

"I can apparate into the dorm, pick up what I want, and apparate straight out. I won't be seen. I was just wondering about the wards, whether there was some sort of system to say that someone was inside."

"I'd be very surprised if any alert was made about that."

"You're not surprised I can apparate in and out?"

"I was when I first guessed - very surprised."

Harry chuckled, "I was very surprised myself when I first managed it."

Snape asked, "What else can you do that no-one else can?" Harry hesitated, and Snape said, "You're right. You should keep your abilities very close to your chest, especially anything that involves greater power than normal."

Harry volunteered, "I don't need a wand, and if I forget incantations, it doesn't make any difference."

"Just a few things?"

"Any standard spell. Complex wards and enchantments I wouldn't try and do like that, but I don't know any of those anyway."

Snape said firmly, "_Never_ tell anybody else. Not your girlfriend, not your particular mates, _no-one._ You should not have told me. It's not that I'll share it, but I've lived a life of deception. I know. The only safe secret is an unshared secret. And a wizard too powerful can be perceived as a threat."

Harry nodded seriously. He'd already shown far too much, especially in duelling. It would be difficult to deliberately allow himself to be defeated, but he guessed as long as he kept telling himself it was only a _pretend_ fight, not a real one.

Snape said, "Pick up your homework if you like. I have a good library, which will help. And ask me for help when you need it."

Harry smiled, "Three days left. I reckon I can do most of it in three days if I work at it."

***x***

Trevor said to his close friend, "Just three days left before school resumes. You have to tell your parents." Malene nodded, and smiled, "You'd really like to be my husband?"

"To be a father! Not a Marriage Bond. You can have other men, and so will I have men."

Malene's mother was astounded when Malene told her she was pregnant. Witches simply did not have accidental children. To have a child, it was necessary to take the charm off - the standard charm that had a female body in a state of healthy stasis - no periods, no pregnancies. Malene said humbly, "I thought he wouldn't come back, you see. I thought he'd do as Granny Abbot says, defeat the Dark Lord, but be killed at the same time or maybe as a result."

Mrs. Winton asked, "Harry Potter?"

Malene nodded.

"So will he marry you?"

"I won't ask him. He's still going to die. Just that it wasn't that time. I think he's very sweet, but I'm not in love with him. He doesn't share himself, or only on the surface. Even with a Marriage Bond, I don't want him as a husband."

"What then?"

"Trevor Lyons. He's the last of the Lyons, heir to the estate. He adores Harry, and is thrilled to think he might have the chance to raise his child."

Trevor was speaking to his parents. "I have hardly any power myself. You know that. Any blood son of mine would be lucky to spell a candle alight!"

His parents looked at each other. It was true. The Lyons family had married cousins too long, and now they were almost infertile, lacking in power, and their sole heir was firmly attracted to men.

Trevor said quietly, "He was nearly chosen by Yusdu. By a _male _Yusdu. Yusdu are attracted to power, above everything. Girl or boy, Harry Potter's child, who could be _my_ child, will probably have more power than the Lyons have had for generations."

Trevor Lyons and Malene Winton were married the day after. Sunday, Trevor returned to school. He was seventeen, he'd go for his NEWTs, and then start to learn to manage the family wealth. There was no need to keep the marriage secret, but they planned to be discreet about the child, at least while its sire was still alive. Malene was in Sixth Year. She was to stay with her parents for the time being, and work at her Housekeeping and Parenting skills.

***chapter end***


	15. Chapter 15

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Terms used: Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English._

_**Chapter 15**__:_

Monday, very early, Neville paced easily beside Harry on their daily morning run, thinking about his companion. He'd been so worried. Afraid not simply that he would not come back, but that he would die. He thought that no-one else knew just how damaged he'd been by his mental battles with Voldemort, and maybe by the broken bond. It was quite warm for the season, and neither of them wore shirts.

Mick called, "Put some effort into it, Harry!"

Obediently, Harry spurted ahead, now running at Mick's pace. Neville smiled, following them. Mick was much bigger, and Aurors had fitness standards to maintain, but Harry appeared just as fit. Even now he was thin, but his shoulders and arms showed muscular, and he had a tan from his stay at a beach. It was a satisfaction to Neville, who'd helped him through the worst of his battles. Or the worst of his battles at school anyway. There was someone else, he knew, who must have helped him in the summer, and who'd probably helped him again in the Easter Break. He was beginning to suspect Professor Snape, though it would once have seemed so unlikely.

There were fifteen in the group of runners, all those in the Duelling Class, with the exception of Draco, who loathed himself sweaty. Several others. Mick never worried about extras, and while it was obvious he was most interested in Harry, he didn't ignore any of the group.

Exercises in the gym afterward, with the usual audience of girls in revealing leotards, plus Trevor. At last Mick clapped his hands, "Finish now. You deserve a good breakfast, every one of you."

Trevor wandered over to Neville, and remarked, his eyes still on Harry, "I married Malene Winton, you know." Neville turned to him in surprise, and Trevor smiled, "It's a good arrangement. We've been friends all our lives. And even though I like men, I still want children."

"You're only teenagers!"

"My family tend to die young. No point in delay."

Neville said, "Congratulations, of course. It's really wonderful. Sorry if I seemed too surprised." It was a not uncommon arrangement, and there were virility potions if needed. Neville did wonder what the arrangement was offering Malene. Maybe wealth? As far as he knew, the Wintons were not wealthy, though they were regarded as Pure-blood, or nearly.

Trevor said, "I offer myself to Harry every single day. It's become a bit of a joke between us. Every single day, he refuses." He ran his eyes over Neville's body, and said quietly, "If you're ever tempted..."

Neville looked at him in surprise. Trevor ran a finger down a muscular arm, and said, "First you were fat, and then for a while, you were tall and rather thin. Now... Now, I want you."

Neville stuttered, "I... I wouldn't know how."

Trevor smiled in sleek satisfaction, "I'll teach you."

Word quickly spread, about Neville and Trevor, and about Trevor's sudden marriage. It was widely expected that there would be an early pregnancy in order to provide an heir for the Lyons family.

It was not until a month later, that Hermione said quietly to Harry, "There's a rumour going around that you sired Malene's baby."

Harry was undisturbed, "Tracey told me very early that witches did not have accidental pregnancies."

"On the other hand, witches are very good at becoming pregnant if they choose to do so."

"Don't be silly, Hermione. Why should Malene want my baby?"

"Probably it has nothing to do with you. I just wondered if you knew the Rotmereh Spell."

"Never heard of it."

"I'll teach you. It's a simple one, and you can say it silently, and maybe you can even make the spell without using a wand."

"You really think it could be, then?"

"You're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Child of Light, etc. And after the episode with the Yusdu, there could be girls who think they might like to have your baby."

Harry stared at her, and finally asked, "What's the Rotmereh Spell?"

"It has no effect on the woman. Only that semen is vanished. You do it straight after, as quickly as possible."

"Tell me."

It was Heather that night. It hadn't occurred to Heather to allow herself to become pregnant. If it had, it would have been probably unsuccessful because of a very small surge of magic. No wand, and no voiced incantation. It was sneaky, but Harry preferred sneaky to illegitimate children. Or worse, giving up sex. Hermione had suggested that option as well, but he hadn't considered it.

***x***

Gunther and Zondra Vardrier wanted Harry Potter. There was some opposition to Gunther taking him, as his potential children would be forever lost to the clan. There were only eighteen mated Yusdu, four children including a baby, plus Gunther and Zondra. But when Gunther declared that he _would _take him, with or without Zondra, the Elders conceded.

Gunther said that he had not sensed a prior bond when he'd looked into Harry's being. A sadness, yes, maybe of a broken bond. The clan swung into action to see if Gunther and Zondra could be granted their wish. Rumours of Voldemort's death were investigated thoroughly, until one was found who'd seen him dead. It was difficult to extract his exact location, and the moment that Pettigrew told them, he screamed in agony, went into convulsions, and died. Gunther said quietly, "Maybe he should be buried next to his dead master."

Soon after, Gunther, Zondra, their parents and two of the Elders, studied the body of the Lord Voldemort, and finally concluded that he'd died of natural causes. There were no signs of violence, and his emaciation indicated a period of illness. The body was under a Preserving Charm, his eyes closed, and his hand grasped his wand. He'd been a very powerful wizard, and they were respectful.

Greta's mother, Zondra's grandmother, gently touched his face, and said, "If he'd let me take him, he would not have come to this."

Gunther said, "Harry has even more power. As our Bonded, he will not be tempted to misuse it." Zondra put her hand in the hand of her cousin, and smiled at him. The three of them. She would have Harry's children, many of them, but it would be the three of them.

***x***

Harry made a couple of corrections to his Arithmancy homework, and thanked Hermione. Hermione asked, "You understand the Wielin Theory now?"

"Yes, thank you."

"You didn't ask Professor Landen?"

"I've given up asking Landen for help. But Snape helped me in the couple of days I was with him, and you're a tremendous help."

"Quite an achievement to be accelerated through three years in one."

"I've had help, right from the start, with the third years."

"So let's see, you're now with the seventh years for Defence, Duelling, Charms and Transfiguration, fifth years for Arithmancy, and sixth year for Construction and Potions."

"That's about right, and I'm doing the History exam as well."

"It's a very full workload. How many are you going to pass?"

Harry laughed, "That's not optimistic!"

Hermione asked, very softly, "Are you happy, Harry?"

"Clare has agreed to date. Properly date. We're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday, and I checked with the gate guards and they say that they won't stop me this time."

"It was a disappointment for you that time."

"It was a humiliation, and with bloody Zack Smith right there, sneering away. And then Ginny got into trouble, and is no longer allowed to see me. I haven't had good luck so far when I try and have a real girlfriend."

Hermione's laughter turned heads. When she stopped, she said, "I heard some of the seventh years talking. They say you've been with nearly all the Slytherin senior girls, half the Ravenclaws, and several of the Hufflepuffs."

Harry blushed, "They exaggerate. There's just a few who ask me now and then. I'm not going to say no, am I?"

Hermione warned, "Clare won't like it if you have other girls."

"Then I won't. Not as long as she's with me."

Harry thought back to Hermione's question that night. _Was _he happy? Nearly always he could forget that there was a hole in him, but he still drew the bed curtains at night and put up a Silencing Shield. Too often he woke with a wet face and a damp pillow. He guessed he was not happy. Maybe Clare would be the one. Maybe she'd consent to a Vere Ultima Bond, and then he'd be happy.

***x***

In their favourite home, overlooking a sandy beach, Antoinette Chazaud sat with her three daughters. There were also two sons of twelve and fourteen, but they were away at school, while the girls were taught at home. All three girls were slightly built, with long, silky, white-blonde hair. There was Veela in the Chazauds' ancestry, leaving its legacy of grace as well as the very pale colouring. There was also Hecatema, from their mother's grandmother, though none of her descendants had been Hecatema - not until these girls - all three of them.

Quietly they watched the sun go down over the sea, lighting up the clouds with the colours. Antoinette sighed when the show was over. She loved this home, and not only in the warmer months. Her middle daughter, Chantelle, had been waiting impatiently, and now said, "Time for our story, Maman."

Antoinette smiled at her daughters, and asked, "Any particular story you want?"

The littlest, Trina, said, "Catma Story, Maman. I want the Catma story." Antoinette glanced at her eldest daughter, aged fifteen, and knew she also wanted the 'Catma Story.'

This was a story of ancient magic, and she automatically switched to Aniragi. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess, and her name was ..."

Chantelle spoke carefully, "Hecatema."

Antoinette smiled her approval, and she too, pronounced it carefully, "Hecatema."

Trina said, "And Catma are beaut'ful and special."

"Hecatema are always very beautiful and very special, just like you girls. An ordinary man is not good enough for a Hecatema. It has to be someone as special as herself, and good and wise and kind."

Justine spoke for the first time. "And what happens when it's time for the Hecatema to find this man?"

"We know it's time because ordinary magic stops working for her. That's because her very special magic is about to start. So her parents find a nice place for her to wait, and because no ordinary man is allowed to come near her, it's made very secure, and her uncles and her father all come to help to guard her and keep her safe. So that her special man can find her and no ordinary man."

Chantelle said eagerly, "Her clothes, Maman!"

"She doesn't know exactly when he will come, but she dresses for him. Lovely gowns, all in white or ivory, or maybe the palest of pinks, with silks and satin and expensive lace."

"Then what, Maman?"

"Her special Hecatema magic starts to work. The walls around her private retreat are reinforced with her very own strong shields. Her man has to be magically powerful, as well as good and kind and wise. And then there's the most wondrous thing of all. How she does it, no-one knows. There is no sound, and she can't feel it herself. No woman can feel it, her father can't feel it, nor her brothers or uncles. But her man can. No matter where he is, what he's doing, he'll hear the Call of the Hecatema, turn in her direction, maybe murmur her name. And then he'll come as fast as he can."

Justine said, "But there are more than one."

"There are usually more than one, the best of the best."

Antoinette's voice dropped to a quiet chant. "The Princess Hecatema sits in her chair, wearing the most lovely of her gowns. Satin panels, palest ivory, which looks wonderful against her flawless skin. It is not full length, but cut short, only to mid thigh, the panels joined with fragile lace. Sleeveless, lacy, to show off her body. She looks like an angel. Then her wizard comes in. He's in a hurry, because there are other wizards out there, all wanting to Bond with the Hecatema. It is every man's dream to Bond with a Hecatema, but only the best of the best ever achieve that dream." Her voice lowered even more, "And he comes closer, and the Princess rises to her feet. They look at each other, and they know this is right. He kisses her. True love's first kiss. And then they belong to each other, forever and forever and forever."

Justine asked, after a pause, ''Was she nervous while she waited, Maman?"

"Of course she was nervous, but she knew she could trust her parents, and she knew she could trust her Hecatema magic. It may be different to the way that other girls find their husbands, but it is the way of Hecatema. She will have the best and kindest wizard within fifty miles, as far as her Call extends."

"What happens afterwards?"

"For a day or so, it's just lovely and tranquil and happy for the Princess and her Soul Mate. The other wizards know they've failed because the Call has stopped, so they go home." She smiled, "And probably some of them get their ears boxed because their wives are so cross with them, running off after a Hecatema."

"The Princess, Maman. What happens to the Princess?"

"The Hecatema powers start to develop. Grandmother Madeline is going to make a visit soon, and she'll tell you a lot more about it, because she's Hecatema herself."

"Grandmother Madeline is very happy with Tomas, isn't she, Maman?"

"Even after all these years, they can scarcely bear to be apart."

"The Hecatema powers, do they hurt?"

"They don't hurt, as I understand, but there's a difference in perception that can be quite overwhelming. And this is why she needed the best. Through the Bond, and by instinct, the Soul Mate knows how to help her control her new powers. She needs him. Her Soul Mate is very deeply in love with her. It is the deepest of any Magical Bond. And even when mastering her new powers is difficult, our princess is so very, very happy. She has her Soul Mate, and everything is as it is meant to be."

Justine absorbed it. _Everything is as it is meant to be._ She would try not to be nervous, to have faith in the Hecatema magic. Love's first kiss, and she would have her Soul Mate.

She would not know there was more to it than a kiss until it happened. The Chazaud girls had not been taught about sex, and it was characteristic of Hecatemae that there was no desire for sex, or even curiosity. Not until after the Bonding. After the Bonding, the relationship between Hecatema and Soul Mate quickly became acutely sexually charged. She switched back to French for the question, "When will it happen, Maman?" Her mother had told her before, but it was a frightening thing her daughter faced. Antoinette would tell the story as often as the girls requested it.

"You turn sixteen years, and then it starts some time in the next few months. Most girls don't even know they're Hecatema until it's revealed at one of the standard school checks. But Grandmother Madeline can tell without healers and monitors. That's because she's Hecatema, and she can do all sorts of things that other people can't do. So we've known for a long time about my three beautiful Princesses."

Four-year-old Trina said, "I'm a Princess, aren't I, Maman?"

"You're all princesses. And somewhere they are three wonderful, kind men, who will be the luckiest men in all the world."

Justine said softly, "I hope he'll be kind."

Her mother said positively, "He'll be kind to you. It's not physically possible for a Soul Mate to hurt his Hecatema. He'll be kind and gentle and wise. He'll be magically gifted, and probably even goodlooking."

Justine smiled, and asked, "Will he be blonde, like we are?"

"Who knows? But somehow, for you, a choice is made, and that choice is the very best man available."

"Who makes the choice, Maman?"

Antoinette shook her head, "Nature, I guess. The ways of Hecatemae are what nature decrees." Wizards were hardly ever religious, though they were by no means averse to celebrating events like Christmas and Easter. Antoinette merely said 'Nature,' and wondered if she was right. There was a deep mystery about Hecatemae, and how they came about.

***x***

Saturday, in early May. There were queues of Hogwarts students waiting to leave the grounds. Names were checked by the gate guards but they were relaxed. They didn't have to stop Harry Potter this time, to their relief. They were convinced that he'd been very close to attacking them when they'd had to do that. They were only security guards, and Mick Larkin happily boasted that Harry was capable of whipping any of the Aurors, including Stewart Rankin, who'd competed at Duelling Competitions in several countries.

Harry waited in line, a little nervous. He didn't want to lose face in front of Clare. He thought Clare was wonderful. She had a powerful, analytical intelligence, a slightly awkward, gangly body, and freckles. She loved sex, and they'd been meeting every night. As he saw it, her only flaw was her overly respectful attitude toward authority, the same as Hermione. But still, he was being very obedient these days. He hadn't even been out of bounds for weeks, only when he needed some new Muggle clothing. Madam Trimble just didn't seem to understand Muggle clothing, though she stocked a limited range.

Clare squeezed his hand. "It'll be all right. You have permission."

"I thought I had permission last time."

"You get special treatment, but it's not all bad. They've fallen over backward to let you study what you want, and when we were caught out after curfew by Professor Snape, he just sneered and pretended he didn't see us."

Harry grinned, "Snape is very good at sneering. He's a lot more approachable than he shows."

"Some of the girls think he's sexy."

Harry was surprised, "Professor Snape is sexy?"

"The way he swishes through the corridors, cape billowing behind him. I've heard one girl, I won't say who it is, say that when he drops his voice into those silken tones, he makes her go weak at the knees." Harry laughed, and Jimmy smiled at him as he waved them though.

In Hogsmeade that day, there were several tall figures wearing capes with hoods that left their faces in shadow. From a cautious distance, Zondra carefully looked at Harry, assessing his qualities. Her father finally asked, "Well, Daughter?"

"I want him. I can't see him fully, of course, but from what I've felt, and from what Gunther says, I definitely want him."

"They have him closely watched, and there may be an anti-disapparation charm on him. There are rumours that he runs away sometimes, maybe even that he's a coward."

Zondra said positively, "He's not a coward." Gunther had said that as well, and he'd looked into Harry's being a lot more closely than had Zondra. He wasn't present, in case Harry saw or sensed him, and fled.

The two Aurors keeping an eye on Harry, were marked. There was a portkey provided, that when activated, would take Zondra and Harry straight into the Ceremonial Bonding Room. Gunther was already there, standing silently in a corner, masked by Cloaking Magic. By the time he showed himself it would be too late for Harry to prevent the double bond being enacted.

It was a major event when a new Bijn was brought into the clan, and every adult Yusdu would watch, though they could not be seen or heard from inside the Bonding Room. No Bijn were present. Each Bijn thought he or she remembered the wonder and joy of the lovemaking that was the Bonding, but no Bijn remembered the agony of the _silcieun_ that cemented the Bonding, and no Bijn knew that nearly always, there was an audience. They didn't know how long the entire process lasted, and no Bijn knew that a new one's agonised screaming was a signal for a mass orgy among the watching Yusdu. It was the only occasion when mated Yusdu shared sex outside their own Bond, with each other, young and old, closely related or not.

Harry and Clare ordered their meal at the small restaurant, accepted drinks, and started talking, happy and relaxed. They mentioned the latest gossip, who was going with who, discussed some of the History they'd been studying, Harry spoke about the latest project in Construction, and Clare told him that she'd heard that Theodore Nott was to return next year, though his father was still in hiding. Harry wondered if now was a good time to ask her feelings about a strong Bond Marriage, but decided it was still far too soon. In any case, it had to wait until they'd finished school.

It was noted when the pair had their coffee, and Zondra stationed herself. She would take him outside the restaurant. But first, she walked over to one of the Aurors, slipped down her hood, and smiled at him. He stared, mouth open. He was hit from behind with a silent spell that induced inertia and confusion. The Bijn Yusdu respected law and order. They would not attack Aurors, but they would not tolerate interference when one of them Chose. The second Auror was hit in a similar fashion. The spells would wear off after a half hour or so.

Only once in a lifetime did Yusdu choose a mate. Zondra Vardrier was very excited. It was time. She moved forward, and confronted Harry, who tensed and blocked off his mind, fully, totally, as he'd learned to do when Voldemort attacked. Zondra flicked a finger, and they were surrounded by the Yus Shield, which forced Clare back, breaking her hold on Harry's hand. Clare screamed for help. The Aurors watched without curiosity, and made no move to interfere. An audience quickly gathered.

Zondra pressed, "_Look _at me, Harry. I want you. _Feel_ me."

Harry was tempted, very tempted. Clare groaned as she saw the physical signs of his temptation.

Harry asked cautiously, "If I went with you, afterward, where would we live?"

Zondra was astounded. That he should be caring! He _must_ want her. She'd _Chosen_ him! She said forcefully, "Open your mind to me! It does not matter where we live. You want me. You know you want me."

Harry stared at her, his mind still closed to her, trying to think. She was beautiful, but she was arrogant, and she had no conception of allowing him equal rights.

Zondra was flabbergasted when he said, as if casually, "Thank you for your kind offer, but you see, I'm dating someone else. I fear I must decline." He made a small gesture, the Yus Shield evaporated, and Harry Potter walked away. He didn't want to be Bijn Yusdu. He might be happy, but he had a feeling that Bijn lost more than they realised.

Zondra watched him walk away, and gave a shriek of fury and pain. She started to go after him, but was grabbed by an Elder, who said forcefully, "_No,_ Zondra. Yusdu do not take an unwilling Bond-mate!"

Zondra struggled in his arms. He was joined by another, who said, "The Portkey?" They took control, and the three of them vanished to the nearby temporary Bonding Room, which would not now see a Bonding. Not with Zondra, who was screaming and sobbing, not with Gunther, whose tantrum was awesome to behold.

Clare said to Harry, "They're gone. You're safe."

Harry looked back at where the wonderful golden woman had been. What had he done? She was offering him so much, and he'd just refused it. Refused life! He wanted to call to her to come back, took a step back to where she'd been.

Clare grabbed him, and when she saw his face, lost her temper, and said harshly, "She's gone! You don't want her."

Harry kept staring, blankly, until Clare felt like slapping him. Finally he turned and started trudging slowly, wearily, back to school. Clare followed him, several other students with her.

Gunther's insistence that he _would _take Harry Potter, whether he tried to resist or not, was very worrisome to the Elders. It was important that the clan did not alienate the wider society of Wizards. They were predators and knew they were predators, but they worked within the law, and were tolerated and respected because of it. They would not be tolerated if it was thought that the Bijn were slaves. Gunther's infatuation was a threat to the safety of them all. He conceded finally, as long as he was permitted to take his original Chosen. She was only short of sixteen by a few months. Taking a young one was better than taking someone seen to be unwilling. Someone whom the British Ministry would undoubtedly be furious about. The Bijn Yusdu returned to their homes near Munich.

The incident in Hogsmeade very much upset Clare. Things were changed between them. He no longer seemed interested in her, was no longer interested in sex. He studied still, but mechanically. When Neville noticed he'd almost stopped eating, he took him off to Madam Pomfrey, who was kind, but had no idea what the problem was. Just that he'd been upset. No doubt he'd feel better soon. He had everything to live for, after all.

Fudge was furious that Zondra Vardrier had tried to take Harry. He made a special visit to complain to the Dachier, accompanied by Aurors Kingsley Shacklebolt and Sue Vanstone. Arne Kuhnast listened gravely to the complaint, and summoned Gunther and Zondra. Zondra looked very ill, and Gunther explained gravely that Yusdu, rejected, could die. That they hadn't pursued Harry, that all he'd had to say was no, and he'd be left alone. There would be no further attempts to seduce him.

Zondra looked around blankly, and then her eyes focused. Kingsley Shacklebolt, well over six feet high, strong and fit. Intelligent, powerful. About thirty. Gunther saw what was happening and kept talking, keeping the attention focussed on him. Kingsley's gaze was locked by Zondra. When she was sure, she held out her arm, "Come." Kingsley went to her.

There was an urgent call. The Bonding Room was in use. Yusdu gathered hurriedly. Most were not in time to see the initial lovemaking, but they were all in time to see Zondra assume her position on top of the man - just another position, Kingsley thought, and he reached up to touch a breast. Incredible, wonderful! Except that then she settled herself fully over him, brought him to climax, then herself, and then he started to scream.

He woke late the following day, beloved by Yusdu. Kingsley Shacklebolt was very happy. He would not be returning to England.

***x***

Monday afternoon, nine days after Zondra tried to take Harry, Snape looked up at the knock on his door. Harry greeted him quietly, and then fidgeted a bit, and said resentfully, "You should have a window here. It's horrible not to see out."

Snape sighed, "I noticed you've not been eating."

"I'm sorry. I try, but I just can't. Neville told me I was letting him win, but that's not right. He doesn't understand he was not an enemy."

"So you've refused the Yusdu, and now you're going to let yourself die."

"Kingsley went to her. He wasn't afraid. Now he has what I needed. I was so very stupid. Even Gunther... After all, he probably wouldn't have killed me. They're both mated now, and there's no more for years. The next one's only ten. Mick told me, as if it was a reassurance!"

Snape said dryly, "Next you're going to say that nobody understands you."

Harry stood up abruptly and turned to leave. "You're quite right. I'm being a stupid, self-pitying teenager."

Snape was alarmed, and moved quickly out from behind his desk, grabbing the silly boy before he was out the door. He pulled him back, stunned when Harry dissolved into sobbing. Somehow, it made Snape remember his long-dead wife, and he drew the boy closer, holding him against his chest, and patting his back, murmuring platitudes about how everything was going to be all right.

Finally, he kissed him on the bent head, and said, "If you can't live without a Soul Bond, then I'll take you on myself. Vere Ultima suit you?"

Harry laughed shakily and drew back. "Don't be ridiculous. You should find a nice woman, and I'm still only sixteen. How many men are married at sixteen?"

"Feeling better?"

"I think so. It's just so stupid to want her back. Clare probably won't forgive me."

"The headmaster was thrilled with you. That you'd feel such a loyalty to your duty and to him, that you were able to resist."

Harry grinned, and wiped his eyes, "Did you put that in his head?"

"Maybe."

He studied the boy, and then locked the door, "Shirt off. I'm going to have a look at you and take the readings."

Harry felt a relief. Severus was back in charge and would not allow him to give up. Snape was relieved that the readings didn't indicate that the depression had gone too far. Just a few more months, and he would have gone the year. The healer had told him that if the patient survived the first year after the bond was broken, then it was likely he would survive indefinitely. He concluded, "You're to see me every week. If you start going downhill, I'll do something. I will not let you die of something so stupid."

Harry asked, not with hostility, but as if he wanted to know. "Is a hole in your centre something stupid?"

"Whatever. I will not let you die."

Snape smiled to himself that night, when he thought over the conversation. He'd never fancied his own gender, but if one took on a Vere Ultima Bond, such prior notions melted away. And besides, it was not just that he admired and cared for the boy, it was that he was turning into a thoroughly attractive young man. He had a lean, lithe build, his shoulders were broadening, his hips narrow. His hair was past shoulder length, and usually held back by a neat clasp at the nape of his neck. No glasses, and his face had firmed into that of a man. Snape guessed that he might shave more than once a week now. Height? He'd never get to six feet, of course, but he must be close to five foot nine.

He sighed. Harry deserved far more than an embittered ex Death Eater. And he was forty. Forty was far too old for sixteen. Only if it was needed to save his life, and then, if he agreed... Dreaming never hurt anyone.

***x***


	16. Chapter 16

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Terms used: Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English._

_**Chapter 16:**_

Harry settled back into the routine, studying for exams, coming rapidly closer. Clare forgave him after someone pointed out that he'd publicly rejected an irresistible Yusdu because he was dating her, Clare Bates, who wasn't even pretty. But he wasn't much fun any more, usually looking rather sad, sometimes even after a session of lovemaking. It was like he was just going through the motions. When she found herself suddenly being pursued by other boys, she told herself he wouldn't mind if she suggested she go with other boys and he go with other girls.

Snape did his measurements again a couple of days later. The LV had been fairly constant at 95, but it was suddenly down to 88. The boy was declining again. Harry saw his face, or maybe read his mind, and apologised. He said he'd try harder.

Snape gave it some hard thought that evening. There were no unmated Yusdu left, and he couldn't try and tell Clare or Hannah or any other of the temporary girlfriends that they should commit to a strong Bond Marriage with Harry Potter. He had many contacts, throughout France and Britain, even some further afield. He wanted word of a Hecatema. He would pay very good money if he was advised of a Hecatema in time for a young relative to win her. Harry had said he couldn't rape, but Severus Snape had experienced the Call, had even come in sight of his goal. No man could resist the overwhelming _need _to take the girl. Harry would rape, the same as any other under the influence.

Neville had tired of Trevor, though it had been exciting and different for a time. Trevor knew Harry's standard exercise times, and also that he liked to swim straight after classes most days. As far as he knew, he hadn't been with anyone since Clare, a week before. He dressed himself in a brief swimming costume, brushed his light brown hair until it shone, then slipped a sky-blue silken 'beach robe' over his brief swimmers. He also used some sexual attractant, disguised as deodorant.

When the opportunity came, he brushed past his target, as if accidentally, so that Harry startled and looked after him. Trevor smiled at him, slowly, deliberately, and said softly, "I think it's time, don't you?"

For the first time, Harry felt a spark of interest, and let his eyes wander up and down the graceful, slightly built body. He was only in swimmers himself, and Trevor saw that he'd won. The next time that Snape did his checks, he was profoundly relieved to see that Harry's reading was back up to 95. Not good, considering his normal was 105, but not indicating frank illness.

Mick made his routine report to Vance McKenzie. "He doesn't shine as much, as if the challenge has worn thin. He's still a regular at exercises, and is very fit, though Poppy says he's too thin."

"He hasn't been leaving the grounds?"

"Not as far as anyone knows. Dumbledore used the excuse of the Yusdu approaching him to cancel Hogsmeade privileges again, which I thought harsh. After all, the boy did manage to resist the woman, and there's no more unmated ones."

"I still can't get over that they wanted him. Kingsley is much more the type they go for."

"Have you heard from him?"

"Only that he's very happy, and is unlikely to return, except maybe for holidays, or if the Bijn Yusdu have business in London. Someone else packed up his things for him, but the apartment is retained."

Construction, and Lavender asked anxiously, "Look at my design, Harry. Do you think it'll work?"

Harry studied it, and finally said, "You'd have to support it with magic, which would be an annoyance if you used it where Muggles can see it. Better to make a few extra struts."

Lavender looked at it carefully, and sighed, "It'll spoil the airy look. I want it beautiful." They were working on their final year projects, and Lavender's was to be a miniature castle, with turrets and unsupported balconies.

Harry suggested, "You could try using more glass. Then only thin metal supports. That would look airy."

Lavender tipped her head to the side a bit, visualising, and then nodded, "I'll try it."

"It's very good. One day, you might be able to make it full-size, for a home."

Lavender smiled at him, "I never thought the great fighter would have an artistic streak."

Harry made a face, "I'm only a great fighter because I'm forced to be. I don't like fighting."

Vince asked, "What are you presenting for the assessment, Harry?"

"I'm working on a wardrobe now, something like the foldable book-case."

"That anyone can minitiarise?"

"That's what Flitwick was helping me with. It might make a nice gift for someone."

"Professor McMillan says mine's really good."

Harry went over to the workmanlike, scaled down home, and admired it. Vince asked, "Harry, when you have your own building firm, can I come and work for you?"

"If it happens, Vince, I'd be happy for you to work with me."

"People keep saying you're going to die. You're not going to die, are you, Harry?"

"I'm trying not to die, Vince."

Lavender said tartly, "I hear that Pansy and Mill gave you a good time last night. That should help."

Harry's reply was perfectly serious. "It does help."

Parvati asked curiously, "So how did they go about it?"

"About what?"

"Seducing you."

"I don't take much seducing, just that Millicent pointed out that I'd been with every other female Slytherin in the senior years, and it was her turn. Then Pansy announced that it was going to be both of them."

Professor McMillan said from behind, "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Harry."

"It's the girls who always tell, Sir. I've just about given up trying to keep things private."

Lavender commented, "You've never once asked a Gryffindor out."

"You all seem like sisters, that's why. And anyway, I'm not allowed out."

"What are you doing for the summer?"

"Professor Dumbledore hasn't told me yet."

McMillan said, "I suppose he's got your schedule mapped out for next year."

"I suppose so. If I'm allowed, may I continue working with you? Even if I do get the NEWT for Construction?"

"I expect you'll get it without problems. It means you'll have a high workload again."

"I'm waiting for the day that Voldemort's body is discovered, and then I can drop Potions, plus the special training they're talking about, and have a normal workload. I want to learn Aniragi with Professor Kent, and I'm planning on trying to learn some French in the summer."

McMillan nodded, "Every wizard should know Aniragi, plus at least one other language. Most of us learn at home as a matter of course."

"Professor Sprout does Decorative Landscaping and Gardening, which I'd love to do, but unless things change, it's just too much."

"You said if his body is discovered."

"He has to be dead, I'm sure of it."

Dumbledore was in a meeting with Fudge, Vance McKenzie, and three Senior Aurors. Dumbledore reiterated, "I was right before when I said he'd come back. I'm still right. He is alive somewhere, he _will_ come back, and we need to have Harry ready to face him. He _cannot_ be allowed to shirk his duty."

McKenzie said, "But he'll be seventeen. You cannot keep him confined when he's a legal adult."

"It is simple. The Ministry makes the law. Pass a special resolution making me his legal guardian until the age of twenty. We can rescind it once he has fulfilled the Prophecy."

McKenzie said, "You still firmly believe in the Prophecy, then, Albus?"

"I do. He will defeat Voldemort. After that, he does what he wants."

"How will he react when he discovers his freedom is still limited?"

"Severus Snape assures me that the boy likes and trusts him. He's a very clever man. He will keep the boy under control, at the same time have him convinced that he's only being protected. He goes to Severus for the summer. Snape Manor is very secure, with high and unclimbable boundaries. I have reinforced the wards. Our Harry will not give Severus the slip."

Fudge sighed. "I will put the resolution to the High Committee." Dumbledore radiated his subtle Mind-Magic. Even warned, Fudge tended to forget about it.

Dumbledore stood to leave, "Things to do," and he turned to Fudge, and said, "Remember, Cornelius, utmost discretion. No-one outside the Committee should know, especially, of course, not Harry." His voice turned quiet, a little mysterious, "Not until it's time."

After this mysterious and impressive pronouncement, he left. Fudge was uncritical, believing again that Dumbledore could be trusted to know exactly what he was doing. Even McKenzie took a few minutes before coming to the conclusion that the words were meaningless. All the same, he still wanted Harry Potter available for when Voldemort became a threat. There was evidence now that he was alive. There had been three mysterious disappearances in Ireland. He probably had some master plan that was taking a while to put into action. Maybe there were undercover agents working for him. Maybe the fact that MacNair's Dark Mark had faded was the same reason that Snape's had faded, that the Dark Lord didn't want them close any more.

Wednesday afternoon. Harry would be at Duelling. Dumbledore wandered in to admire. For the last thirty years, he'd thought of little else but the defeat and humiliation of Tom Riddle. He had a few words to Mick, who said that he thought he was maybe growing a bit stale. Did the headmaster think it would serve a useful purpose if he varied the training with some lessons in unarmed combat, maybe even First Aid, as the Aurors did?

Dumbledore smiled benignly and gave his approval. His little warrior was coming along nicely. And when the bout ended, and Harry was quiet and respectful, Dumbledore was very content. If he survived the final battle, it might not be necessary to weaken him after all. If he did it, it would be for the greater good. For all his life, Dumbledore had used that as his motto, _For the greater good,_ never understanding that as powerful a motive was his own desire to control and manipulate.

Snape insisted that Harry come and see him regularly every week, _particularly_ if he didn't think it was worth bothering. But Harry was holding steady, the LV readings fluctuating slightly, his weight almost unchanging. Snape wondered if he'd ever see him looking anything but too thin. Harry was working very hard now, on the lead up to the exams. There was no steady girlfriend, but there were plenty of girls ready to make offers. Hermione was thoroughly annoyed with him when he took Lavender Brown to bed, though she found it difficult to give a reason, and took refuge in vague statements about morality. She and Ron were still together, though the relationship had taken a back seat to Hermione's obsession with getting top marks in every exam she was doing. Susan and Seamus were together, Neville was now going out regularly with Ginny, who seemed to be coping easily with the fact that she was forbidden to go out with Harry, and there was some gossip that Trevor was having a fling with the assistant librarian.

Severus's contacts came up with rumours of a possible budding Hecatema in California, though it may have been wishful thinking on the part of his informant, and a whole family of them in the South of France. He thought that had to be fantasy, given that they were so rare. A recessive gene, it seemed, and maybe there was something else. Maybe even with the genetic inheritance, it only sometimes manifested. Just in case, he made a quick visit to France and made deals up and down the country - a large reward for information of a Calling Hecatema, as soon as possible once the Call commenced. Also if a known Hecatema was approaching sixteen. But such information was usually kept as secret as possible. A Calling Hecatema could totally disrupt life within the range of her Call, and there was no need to have extra wizards lurking in the area.

He also spoke to the parents of a few young women he knew. There was no point talking to wealthy, Pure-blood families, whose children were often Promised quite early in life. But there were some, maybe without wealth or beauty, or the Muggle-born, who might be interested. The complication was that he couldn't say who, but only that there was a young widower, in ill health because the Marriage Bond was broken only six months after the marriage.

And still, his mind played with making a bond with the boy himself. Only to save his life. Harry deserved better than Severus Snape, or so Snape thought. The Vere Ultima Bond. A strong bond was essential. And if Harry's health declined very quickly, as it could, so that he was unable to consent, or do his part? There was another, illegal - the Oligata Ultima Bond. Its purpose was to Bond an unwilling boy for use by a man. Difficult to punish, as once it was done, not only would the boy refuse to testify against his Bond-mate, but if the Bond-mate was punished, then so would be the boy. Merely separating a pair in a close Bond, could easily be fatal. Snape had no intention of allowing Harry Potter to die, no matter what was in the blasted prophecies!

***x***

Zondra Vardrier sat across the pelvis of her beloved, leaning forward and stroking over the glossy, ebony chest. She communicated, _I love it that you're so totally without hair. _

Kingsley smiled, _The others laughed at my vanity, but we all have our flaws. _Every morning, without fail, he performed the Hinda-Dreay Spell on himself, a spell that removed every trace of hair from his body. Kingsley had always enjoyed the beauty of his own body, and saw hair on chests and legs as a definite flaw.

There wasn't a thought put into words, but Zondra felt his small doubt anyway, and leaned over him, _I know I tried for Harry, but no matter what, I could not be happier than with you. _She repeated it in voiced words for emphasis, "I _could_ not be happier than with you."

Kingsley relaxed and said, "He'll be doing exams now. Poor boy, they keep him under very close control."

_Why?_

_So that he's available when the Lord Voldemort returns. Harry Potter's the only one with the ability to kill him. _

Zondra spoke aloud in her surprise, "Didn't I tell you? Voldemort's dead. The Elders wouldn't let me near Harry until we'd verified that."

Kingsley levered himself up on his elbows, "He's dead?"

"We inspected the body. My grandmother said that she tried for him when he was just a teenager. Young Harry's only the second one we know of, who foolishly turned down a Yusdu. Tom Riddle turned bad, and Harry's going to die, very probably."

"We must tell the Ministry, urgently. And why should the boy die?"

"Because he had a Magical Bond with Riddle, which broke when the man died. I could have saved him. As it is, he's probably already declined past retrieving."

Zondra started teasingly moving her body, and Kingsley almost forgot about Harry again. Afterwards, he stroked over his Bond-mate's abdomen, and said softly, "A boy, you told me. And probably Yusdu."

_We don't know that, not until we see his colouring. Just that the power of a Bonding conception seems to make more Yusdu than normal._ She kissed him, _You might have to wait until Number Two to see yourself in the appearance of a child of ours. But you're likely to see it in his personality, sometimes in his gestures. Our Yusdu child belongs as much to you as to me. _

There were to be two babies born to the Bijn Yusdu around the end of February. Gunther's Bonded, fifteen-year-old Gisela, was also pregnant. Like Kingsley, Gisela was very happy and proud to be Bijn Yusdu. Her parents were disgruntled that she'd been taken, and disappointed that she'd totally lost interest in being a Healer. She'd wanted to be a Healer since she was very little. There was nothing they could do about it. It was not as if she was an unwilling slave...

***x***

Exam time came, first the OWLs and the NEWTs, for which external assessors were used. Arithmancy was the hardest for Harry, but at least it had no practical component. The curiosity he met from strangers was often very hard for him to tolerate. Defence and Duelling, morning and afternoon, then there would be Practical Construction, with Charms and Transfiguration Thursday and Friday. A weekend's grace, and the sixth year exams would start, Potions and History. They were the only subjects left he had with his year-mates now, and that was only if one counted History.

Wednesday, Practical Construction. There were only three seventh year students, plus Harry. He was to go for the NEWT in Construction, though instead of being moved to study with the seventh years, as he had been for Charms and Transfiguration, the seventh and sixth years had combined classes. Harry didn't think he'd fail Construction, but it was like Charms. He wanted more time to study the subject.

The examiner was impressed with his beautifully crafted wardrobe, complete with a multi-tiered compartment for shoes. He was more impressed when Harry demonstrated the charms. A tap of the wand that froze the garments in place, and a further tap that shrank the item to fit in a pocket. "Reversible, of course, and by anyone with a wand. I made it so that it doesn't have to be a skilled wizard to work like this."

The old Professor said, "Well, if you were not destined to be an Auror, you could set up in manufacturing. This is something that would sell very well indeed."

Harry said casually, "It's for a friend." Severus had helped him so much. He should have something to remember him by when he was gone. Harry didn't even notice the contradiction in that thought. A part of him was positive that the summer coming was his last, and yet he knew exactly what subjects he wanted to work on in seventh year.

After assessment of the projects, each of the four students was assigned to a pile of materials, to make a simple, scaled down room, with windows, door and roof. For Harry, it was simple, and he itched to help poor Trevor, who was struggling. Not that he was stupid, but he didn't appear to have mastered some of the spells required.

Professor McMillan said warningly, "No helping, Harry."

"Yes, Sir."

Trevor gave him a rueful grin, and finally managed the feat of settling the roof into place. He was the last, and the assessor checked closely, and nodded, "Satisfactory." Trevor gave a sigh of relief.

He joined Harry as they left the large dungeon that currently contained four scaled down houses, plus three of the four projects of the students. Harry's was in his pocket. He was supposed to see Severus after classes. Severus insisted on the regular time, without fail.

Trevor said casually, "Thank you for wanting to help. I hear you're great with the slower students."

"You're not slow though, Trevor. I don't quite understand why you have trouble."

"My family has declined in some areas - low levels of magic, very low fertility. I expect that my son will be the first Lyons in generations who will have a normal quotient of power, and very likely higher."

Harry said cautiously, "Malene does all right."

Trevor grinned mockingly, "With Malene's genes and your genes, the heir to the Lyons fortune will no longer be a disgrace to Wizardkind."

"You're not a disgrace, Trevor. You're one of the more popular boys in school."

"You're not surprised about the child?"

"Hermione told me it was rumoured." He smiled at Trevor, "You'll make a great father. It pleases me that there will be a child of the Potters, even if he is called Lyons."

Trevor was relieved, "It pleases you?"

"Very much. Would you mind if I left him the Potter estate?"

"What about your own children?"

"If you don't mind, I'll make a will the moment I come of age." He thought he could live until then.

Trevor clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "As long as you make provision for your own heirs. My child needs nothing that my family cannot provide."

Harry said wistfully, "I would love to have a chance to see him."

"You tell everyone that you think he's dead. Why shouldn't you?"

Harry shrugged and muttered, "I don't know."

He was looking sad again. Trevor thought that Harry too often looked sad, even when he laughed and joked and pretended to be just another teenager. He came closer, and rubbed his back, quite tenderly, "He'll be born in early November. Of course you'll see him. You can be Godfather if you like, and he can call you Uncle Harry."

"That would be nice." There was that hint of wistfulness again, and Trevor looked after him with concern when they parted.

Snape looked up when Harry knocked, locked the door, and said briskly, "Shirt off." Harry complied. Snape never wanted to talk until he'd checked Harry's health.

Harry remarked, "I heard someone talking the other day. He said you actually laughed when he made a joke. You're ruining your reputation, you know."

Snape drawled, "And what reputation is that, Potter?"

"The one that says you don't look crossways at Professor Snape for fear of your life."

"Ah, that one." He looked penetratingly at Harry, and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Did you hear that I had something to do with Malene's and Trevor's baby? They say it's to be a son, due in November."

"I wondered about that. I also heard the rumours."

Harry pulled the minitiarised wardrobe out of his pocket, "I made this for you, though it was also an assessment project. You touch your wand to the back, and say 'Full size' and to the sides to freeze and unfreeze clothing and shoes so they don't tumble about and get messy. Professor Flitwick helped me with the charms."

Snape did as he said, and studied the workmanship, before saying sharply, "It is _not _a goodbye present. I will _not_ give up on you."

Harry said doubtfully, "A thank you present, that's all. I don't _think_ it's a goodbye present."

Snape sighed, "It's beautifully done, and I very much appreciate it."

"I didn't answer your question earlier. I feel as well as I usually do. I am eating, and I expect to pass every exam."

"You're highly intelligent. I don't know how you managed to be such a mediocre student in your earlier years."

"I wasn't _that_ mediocre!" And besides, he hadn't wanted any more attention than he already received. Top marks would have made him stand out even more. And Hermione would have hated him!

They chatted a bit more, relaxed together, then Harry stood, "Best get some study in before dinner."

"Come and see me straightaway if you find yourself going downhill."

Snape studied the wardrobe again after Harry left, inspecting closely, pulling drawers in and out. It was a good concept, a shrinkable wardrobe that any wizard could use. He felt very sad. He was losing him. It had started again, just a gradual decline, a point lower the previous week, two points lower today. The way it was going, he would end up Bonding the boy himself, and while he dreamed about it sometimes, he knew his world would condemn him for it. And besides, Harry deserved so much more.

Thursday at breakfast, Hermione exclaimed over the headlines. _Could he be dead? An unconfirmed report stated that the body of You Know Who has been discovered, lying in state on a bed in an abandoned mansion. No further details are available._ She said, "Listen to this," and read it aloud. Around the Great Hall, many other students were also reading the newspaper. There was a rising buzz of speculation.

Harry was looking at the bacon and eggs on his plate with considerable distaste. He _couldn't_ eat bacon and eggs now! Maybe he'd try some toast instead. He thought he could manage toast.

Ron nudged him, "Were you listening? It says that his body may have been discovered."

"I hope so. It's about time!"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"It needs to be confirmed, maybe photographs. I might be let off the leash then."

Ron laughed, "Professor Dumbledore looks gobsmacked!"

Charms that day. Harry felt unnaturally clear-minded, and had not the slightest trouble with either the Practical or the Theory. He'd have six NEWTs if he got them all, as many as most people managed.

That evening, Dumbledore was missing from the Head Table, and rumours were flying. Dumbledore had duelled Voldemort, and now he was dead. No, _Dumbledore_ was dead, out of shock, maybe. That he was furious that he hadn't been informed straightaway, and that he'd duelled Cornelius Fudge, that there had been an enormous battle involving giants and goblins and vampires, and that it was all nonsense and they should forget about anything else but passing exams.

In the morning, headlines blazed, _Voldemort is dead! _The mere fact that they dared to print his name, said it all. Hermione handed the paper over to Harry, who read what the article said, then opened to a second page, laying it flat. A double page spread. His old enemy, lying flat on a bed, fully dressed in black robes embroidered with silver, and with his wand in his hand. Harry stroked over the image. Tom, the little boy alone and needing a mother. He looked up at the head table, seeing McGonnagal looking at him. Dumbledore wasn't present. He returned the paper and checked the clock. The Transfiguration NEWT shortly. He felt rather remote, not terribly interested in what the discovery would mean for him.

One thing he already had prepared, and as soon as the exam was over, he went to see Professor McGonnagal, finding her looking harassed. Voldemort had been so quiet for so long, and the end was a total anti-climax. No-one was celebrating, everyone seeming confused more than anything.

McGonnagal smiled rather falsely, but the boy was businesslike. "You will want to know what I wish to study next year, so I made a list."

McGonnagal shrugged, "I'll have to see what the headmaster says."

"Well, I'm off the hook. Surely there's no need for him to tell me what to do any more."

"Give me the list." She studied it, "Dropping Defence, Potions, Duelling and Transfiguration."

"Yes, but I want to continue with History, the same as I did it before, also Charms, Construction and Year 7 Arithmancy. Plus Aniragi, which I feel I should have, and Decorative Gardening with Professor Sprout."

"Gardening! Usually only the dunces ask for gardening."

"Six subjects." He smiled, "I might have some free time next year."

"It's still one more than most do in Seventh Year. You've done well, you know, to catch up with Arithmancy."

"Thank you, Professor McGonnagal."

McGonnagal said abruptly, "You were proven right. You said you thought he was dead months ago."

"I couldn't imagine him staying quiet so long if he was still alive."

McGonnagal shook her head, "I still have trouble believing it."

It was good that he was off the hook, Harry supposed. But he was in an odd frame of mind, and scarcely noticed that he forgot lunch. Simply not hungry. Snape noticed, and sent off reminders to all his contacts - He _needed_ a Hecatema. He tried talking to Hannah Abbot's parents. Hannah could save Harry's life by going into a Bond Marriage with him. Harry was dying because he'd had a Magical Bond with Voldemort. They recoiled in shock and disgust, and nothing he could say would convince them that Harry was not polluted. At least they promised not to tell anyone else. Mr. and Mrs. Abbot warned their daughter against having anything to do with Harry Potter.

Harry found a new History Book and settled down to read. On Sunday he forgot to go for dinner, and only afterwards, when Neville said something, did he reluctantly take himself to Snape.

Snape was stern. Harry was absolutely not to miss meals, if he had to force himself to eat, he would, and he was to start reporting to Snape every evening without fail. At the end of the lecture, Snape said, "Only two weeks before the end of the year, and we'll go to the beach. Devon if you want, or maybe the South of France, like at the Easter break."

Harry said, "I need to learn French." Snape was relieved that he still appeared to be looking at a future, but the desire to learn French was something from the past. Harry was no longer much thinking of a future.

Monday afternoon, Fudge's secretary said respectfully, "Harry Potter is here to see you, Minister. He doesn't have an appointment, but he refuses to leave." Fudge was a little taken aback when Harry insisted that he be granted emancipation straightaway, as was promised back in February. That he intended just to stay there until he was granted emancipation.

Fudge protested, "You'll be seventeen in just six weeks!"

"I need to make a will, and if I'm emancipated, it's valid now, not in six weeks."

Fudge hesitated, staring at the boy, remembering what Kingsley had relayed to him, that Harry could be dying because of the fractured bond with Voldemort. It was hard to believe, except that the boy seemed a little tired, a little thin, and spoke as if indifferently, even though he seemed totally determined.

Harry said, "I have done everything asked of me. Everything Dumbledore asked of me. You owe me _something_, and I don't want my estate going to the Dursleys."

Fudge sighed, "Wait in the external office, and I'll see what can be done."

"It has to be today. I'm staying until it's done."

"Today."

Harry waited patiently where he'd been put. He wasn't thinking very clearly, beyond the thought that he wanted his son, Trevor and Malene's son, to inherit.

Fudge and McKenzie were at St. Mungo's, staring at the old man in the bed. Fudge tried asking, "Albus?" But Dumbledore's eyes remained glazed, and a nurse shook her head slightly.

For too long he'd lived only with the thought of defeating Voldemort, for the greater good, and to enhance his own reputation. And for nearly fifteen years, he'd watched over his tool, _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord... power the Dark Lord knows not... _Except that Voldemort had just died! _Died! _Where was the vaunted immortality? He'd been more than an ordinary man. _Surely _he'd been more than an ordinary man! He'd somehow survived being stripped from his body when he'd tried to kill the Potter baby. And then he'd just _died! _The old man couldn't believe it, but they'd shown him his body, and his protestations had dried up.

Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, and all his other honours and titles, was very old. His purpose for living was gone. As Fudge still watched, Albus Dumbledore stopped breathing. No efforts were made to revive him. It was not something wizards did, trying to make a dead person become alive again.

Fudge said, "Well, Potter has no guardian now. I guess we'd best emancipate him."

"The will?"

"I'll put young Perce onto it. I have a feeling the boy meant it when he said he wouldn't leave until he had what he wanted. Easiest just to give it to him."

Snape was relieved when Harry knocked at the door of his office, even though a half hour late, and further relieved when the LV read at the same level as the previous day. Maybe the deterioration had stopped.

Only once it was done, did Harry give him a grin, and say, "I'm a free man." He placed his emancipation papers on the desk, and Snape checked through the documents, and congratulated him.

He remarked, "I wouldn't have thought they'd bother, not at this late date."

"I went to the Ministry, and sat until they gave me what I wanted. Fudge was quite cordial, I thought."

"Mick told me the information came through Kingsley. Apparently the Bijn Yusdu inspected his dead body before Zondra tried for you."

Harry laughed, "And he only now thought to mention it?"

Snape said dryly, "I don't think the Yusdu are particularly altruistic."

"Did Mick say whether Kingsley was satisfied?"

"Very happy, no doubt. Those taken by Yusdu are always very happy."

"She seemed so arrogant. As if all she had to do was tell me to go with her, and I would."

"Everyone else does."

"If I hadn't had the warning of Gunther, I wouldn't have been able to resist."

"Pleased you did?"

"Yes. I didn't want to be Bijn Yusdu."

Harry was quite happy now, his mind at ease. He'd done what he needed to do, and everything was arranged. There was no need to think, only about exams. It would be nice to finish the year, and he wanted to go back to London on the Hogwarts Express. Snape had agreed to pick him up from King's Cross. There was no need to conceal that he'd be going to his place for the summer.

It was a surprise to find the Great Hall draped in black when they arrived for dinner. Surely not for poor Tom! But once they all seemed to be quietly assembled, Professor McGonnagal stood, and made the solemn announcement that their Headmaster had died suddenly. She waited for the buzz of comment to cease, and ignored the wails from some of the more emotional students, (or maybe those who wanted to impress,) and continued that he was to be given a Ministerial Merlinus funeral, on the Wednesday following the end of the school year, and was currently lying in state in the Ceremonial 'Mage's Room,' at the Ministry.

She continued solemnly, "As you should know, a Ministerial Merlinus funeral is only given for the most revered members of our world. Wizards from all around the world will attend, and naturally, most of you will also wish to attend. We all knew and admired him. The prefects will have a role, and I expect to see them in my office straight after dinner."

Hermione whispered, "The headmaster is dead. I can scarcely believe it." Harry was looking with distaste at the food that appeared on the table, and then up at Severus, who was watching him. He supposed he'd best eat.

Hermione and Ron were both prefects, but it happened to be Draco who told him that the two Head Prefects would present a wreath on behalf of the whole school, and that the prefects were to encourage as many as possible to be present, and in school uniform. Draco said probingly, "You'll be there, of course. He always made so much of you." Harry answered vaguely that he didn't think he'd be there.

Snape was working at a potion when Draco found him in his laboratory. Snape hovered over the cauldron, and said, "In a moment, Draco. Timing is critical." Quite suddenly, the liquid became almost clear, and Snape poured a small vial of a viscous, creamy white substance into it, then stirred quickly as he turned the heat to very low.

Draco asked, curiously, "What was that you just added?"

Snape was brisk, "None of your concern."

Draco nodded, assuming that it was an illegal substance. The most effective potions frequently included illegal ingredients.

Snape glanced once more at the potion now gently shimmering, and asked, "What's on your mind?"

"Voldemort's dead, Dumbledore's dead, and Harry's free."

"Yes."

"Is he still going to you for the summer holidays?"

"He is."

"And he has to report to you every day, I've noticed."

"Yes."

Draco fidgeted back and forth across the room, and suddenly blurted, "What's he dying from?"

Snape regarded the boy narrowly, and decided to explain. If anyone could do something, it just might be the head of the Malfoy family. "When the Dark Lord tried to kill him as a baby, there was a bond formed. When he was fourteen, it was strengthened. We don't know when it was broken, but I believe it to be the cause of Harry's decline. He can still be saved if there is someone willing to bond with him. What we need is a willing woman, and Harry's consent."

Draco thought it over, and said positively, "He's no longer the hero. I don't believe you would find a woman who would be good for him."

"Or a man. Even you, Draco. You could save him."

Draco stared at him incredulously, before saying, "I have a great regard for Harry, but I need to breed an heir. Besides, you could be wrong. Persuading someone to bond with him might simply mean that someone else dies, too."

Snape frowned and admitted, "I hadn't thought of that risk. But think about it, Draco. Harry's lost his childhood, he's been tortured by the man, and now he's going to die because of him."

"I'll talk to my mother. Maybe she knows someone foolish or desperate enough."

"Try and be discreet. I don't want him regarded as something dirty because he had a bond with a madman."

Draco glanced at Severus's left forearm, but said nothing. Snape would never lose the taint of Death Eater, no matter his services as a spy.

Draco said politely, "Thank you for telling me, Professor. As I said, I'll talk to my mother. Maybe a couple of the girls."

"I remember the Potters as wealthy, but I don't know how wealthy."

"That might help."

Draco didn't talk to his mother, or any of the girls. The more he thought about it, the less he believed it. Probably Harry was just reacting to too many years of pressure, then the sudden anticlimax, and the loss of his importance in the eyes of their world. Like Dumbledore, who'd had a heart attack. Draco let it be known that anyone turning their backs on Harry now he was no longer the Chosen One, would not be looked upon with approval. The threat sounded mild, but Draco was immensely wealthy, and was learning to use his power.

***x***


	17. Chapter 17

_Terms used:__ Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English. The Holocaust referred to below is the witch-burnings of the Middle Ages, which left the Aniragi population decimated. _

_*Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 17:**_

Hermione and Ron were very busy with sixth year exams that week, but Harry only had History and Potions, which he breezed through. His mind seemed so very clear, as if everything he'd ever read on the subject could be brought instantly to mind when he needed. He didn't notice that Draco spent more time than usual with him, or that Neville tended to hover over him. Two girls whom he hadn't been with before, sought him out, but he wasn't interested in sex any more, and politely declined. Only Heather a couple of times. He liked Heather.

The last exams were on Friday, and on Saturday, the Gryffindor sixth years arranged to meet at Madam Rosmerta's, in Hogsmeade. Harry smiled as he walked through the school gates. No-one now cared what he did. There was a festive atmosphere in the small town, as if it was only now beginning to soak in that the terrors were over.

Neville remarked, "All the unsolved crimes - who are they going to blame then on now?"

Harry laughed, "As long as it's not me." He felt strange, a little light-headed, and when the others bought themselves alcoholic drinks, he chose soft drinks.

Hermione said, "One more week, the Feast, awarding of House Cup, and so on, and then home."

Neville asked, "Where are you going, Harry? Gran says you can come home with me, if you like."

Ron said quickly, "He's coming to the Burrow. Mum said I was to tell him."

Harry shook his head, and said definitely, "I can't. Severus is to look after me."

"Why that greasy git? _We _want you, and no-one will stop you doing what you want now."

Harry was a little troubled, "Your Mum would be upset, Neville's grandmum, maybe, too."

"Upset?"

Neville said suddenly, forcefully, "You're _not _going to die, Harry. You're being stupid."

Harry thought about it, while his startled friends looked at each other. Severus had seemed so quiet these past few days, and hadn't said what his readings were. He was still nagging him to eat, and Harry thought he was mostly managing... He guessed he was going to die, but Severus would take care of everything. He didn't want Ron's Mum upset, and he didn't want anyone fussing over what had to be. He smiled slowly, almost contentedly, not noticing the looks on the faces of his friends. He was going to die. It was all right. It was time.

Neville went to his back, and put an arm around him. Harry said, surprised, "I'm fine, Neville. You know that."

Neville squeezed him and asked whether he wanted some snack food with his soft drink.

Snape had another visitor that evening, Neville Longbottom. Neither Ron nor Hermione could overcome their belief that Snape was a sarcastic bastard who loathed Gryffindors, even when they admitted that he'd softened in the past year. Snape raised his eyebrows, and Neville said softly, "He no longer closes his curtains at night. He doesn't cry in his sleep any more, and it's like he's just happy to die now. It's the bond he had with Voldemort isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so."

"He says you'll look after him."

"The best I can. I'm going to start supplying him a nutrient supplement at meals. Can you make sure he drinks it?"

"Would a new bond save him?"

"Probably. I put it to him yesterday, the moment I found someone willing. He refused pointblank. He says he'd rather die than bond with someone out of pity or because they want his money."

"He's not frightened to die. He seems more contented now than he has been all year."

"I guess there's no point worrying over him then."

Neville fidgeted, and suddenly blurted, "Keep him happy?"

"I plan to take him to the beach. He likes the beach."

"Sir?"

Snape assured him, "I will do my best for him. Try and keep his other friends from making him uncomfortable."

Harry jumped as a large glass of a chocolate milk drink appeared in front of him at dinner, and glanced at Snape. Snape nodded at him, and Harry sighed, and drank the V-Vak Potion, recognizing it instantly. It was a lot easier to take than the dinner.

They were still doing some work, though in a relaxed manner, and for any who wanted, there were apparation lessons. Harry didn't bother with them. He flew on his broomstick a bit, but gave up trying to run and exercise. Mick said nothing, and it was rumoured that Duelling would be incorporated into Defence next year. Mick would not be back as a teacher.

By Wednesday, Harry was having dizzy turns if he stood up too quickly. He scarcely noticed the care extended to him by not only the other Gryffindors, but by others of the senior students, though only Neville believed he was ill because of the broken bond.

Hermione thought it was Depression, pure and simple. She expected him to come back after the holidays, tanned and fit and healthy. She advised him to go to a Muggle doctor, because there were excellent medications for depression. But Harry denied he was depressed, and Madam Pomfrey, when approached, said that if he was depressed, it was just a mood, and he'd get over it. Depression was not a disease, but sometimes a natural response to too much pressure for too long, "And goodness knows, Harry's had a lot of pressure put on him!"

The Leaving Feast, and the rowdy atmosphere among the Junior Students degenerated into a Food Fight. Hermione said sniffily, "_So_ immature, but McGonnagal said not to clamp down on them too hard, not when we've just lost our headmaster."

A second year yelped when a tart landed in her face, and then abruptly lifted her hand, "Enough!"

Immediately, the fight died away. Hermione said, "There's a future prefect."

Meggie Liddicombe was ignoring the inefficient scourgify spells, and marched up to Harry. Harry said, "Meggie?"

Meggie demanded, "I want to know if you killed him after all. Mum says you probably did, and then didn't tell anyone."

There was a dead silence as students turned to stare at Harry.

Harry said, "I haven't seen him since he came here the year before last."

"Then did Sirius Black kill him? There was a grave, marked with the name of Peter Pettigrew. Mum said that maybe the criminal killed them both."

"If Pettigrew's body has been found, then it's proven that Sirius is not a criminal. They'll have to clear him, maybe even say sorry for putting him in that barbaric prison."

Meggie watched him assessingly, and finally asked, "Are you sure you don't know anything?"

"I didn't know where he was, and I don't keep in touch with Sirius."

"You went away at Easter, Mum said."

"How does your Mum know these things?"

"She works at the Ministry, that's how. And she said that Sirius Black is your godfather."

Harry shrugged. He didn't think much of Sirius, whom he'd met in third year, when he appeared to be threatening him, and came to know a little better in the summer between fourth and fifth year. In his judgement, Sirius had never grown up.

The pugnacious child still stared at Harry, and then finally shrugged, "If you say so." She added kindly, "We don't blame you, you know. It wasn't you who said that he was your responsibility."

Harry smiled at her, "He's dead, and we don't have to worry about him any more."

"I've heard men say that it doesn't matter that he was not a good man, he had enough power that he would win. They say it's better to be on the winning side. What do you think?"

"I think it _always_ matters whether a man is good or bad. And better to die than help an evil man to power. Even the cowardice of refusing to speak his name helped Voldemort to power."

Ron said quietly, "Mum said something like that. That too many people were cowards, and refused to come out against him. Instead they waited for a saviour."

Harry chuckled, "And the saviour didn't come through. Poor Tom just died. Has anyone heard how Trelawney's taking it?"

Lavender answered, "She's locked herself away, and every now and then wails that her life's work has been in vain."

Harry shrugged, "She'll soon convince herself that the Prophecy was valid, only that the meaning was misinterpreted."

But they were hushed then and Meggie went back to her seat, as Professor McGonnagal rose to her feet. A rather too long speech about the many virtues of Dumbledore, and how she hoped that as many students as possible would be present at the funeral, "Strict school uniform. It's a very sad and solemn occasion."

Harry wished he could slip away quietly, but it would be too marked. He was getting very tired, and it was only backless bench seating.

Hufflepuff had won the House Cup, Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup. A few academic trophies were awarded, and Mick was thanked for his efforts, with the comment that several of his Duelling Class would almost certainly be accepted into Auror Training.

Harry waited until the jostle of students around the exit was reduced before carefully standing. Ron slipped an arm around his waist as he swayed, and stayed with him as he prepared himself for bed. There was always a party the last night, but Harry thought he was lucky to have endured the feast.

Ginny had stayed away from him as instructed, but she noticed he was not at the party, and asked Ron if he was all right. Ron said dismissively, that he was just a bit tired. Ginny asked, "Was he close to Dumbledore? Is he mourning?"

"You went out with him. What did he say about Dumbledore?"

"I don't remember him saying anything."

"Well, he was not one of his admirers. He's probably just tired. You know he's often out very late with one or other of the Slytherin girls."

Only when Ginny left the group, did Neville say quietly, "If Ginny was willing to go out with him again, maybe bond with him, maybe he'd be all right again."

Ron was adamant. "It can't have been a true Bond. And if somehow it was, he would not be _able_ to bond with anyone else. And if it was tried, and he died anyway, Ginny would die. Even for Harry, I'm not sacrificing my sister."

Hermione said worriedly, "He does appear to be losing his strength, and he's scarcely eating."

Neville said, "We may not like Professor Snape much, but he's looking after Harry the best he can, and Harry trusts him."

"Do you think he could have been his helper last summer?"

"I'm almost sure."

"Harry's never liked people fussing over him."

Hermione said, "Well, we'll try not to fuss. Just be happy, and try and get him to make plans for seventh year."

The train the next morning. Hedwig was to go to the Weasleys again, and Harry had everything he possessed in his trunk. Usually he left many of his possessions behind, as their room never changed. Not this time. Neville noticed, but he was the only one.

Harry was quiet, keeping company with Neville, Dean and Seamus since Hermione and Ron had Prefects' duties. The talk was casual, Quidditch, and then Soccer. Dean was talking about computers, and said that he had every intention of going to a computer course over the holidays - "Ridiculous we don't use such brilliant technology when it's available."

Seamus asked, "Do you have many Muggle inventions at home, Dean?"

"We could have a Muggle visitor, and unless they go through into the private areas, they wouldn't know it's not a Muggle house."

Harry remarked, "I'd do that, I think. We live in a Muggle world, and it's silly to pretend it's not there."

"You don't agree we should be isolationist then?"

"I think it's imperative that secrecy is maintained at all costs. I even think that intermarriage between Muggle and wizard is too risky. I don't know why Binns never talked about the Holocaust, but if I were teaching History, it would be the first thing I went into."

"What about the Muggle-born?"

"Wizards are barbaric in some ways, especially in their treatment of Muggles. The numbers of Muggle-born is the most obvious indication. Severus told me that they're _always_ sired by a wizard. The rape of Muggle women should be very severely discouraged, maybe by castration!"

"I would have thought a month in Azkaban more lenient!"

"Azkaban is a torture house. Some might not survive the month. I think I'd quite like to destroy the place and exterminate the Dementors!"

"You should go into Politics if you have such strong views."

Harry sighed, "I'm not good at Politics. I only want a peaceful life." He leaned back his head, shivered, and pulled his cape closer around him.

Neville asked, "Are you cold?"

"A little, maybe."

Neville incanted a warming charm, and said, "Better?"

Harry smiled, "Better." It wasn't really, but he often felt cold these days.

Neville said casually, "Remember our first days at Hogwarts? I think it was the second day, and you found my toad for me. And then you got into trouble for getting me back my Remembrall."

"I thought I was about to be expelled, but I wasn't."

There was more reminiscing, and by the time Ron and Hermione appeared, Harry was leaning back, a contented look on his face, as Dean accused Seamus of crying himself to sleep every night for a week.

Hermione sat down close to the side of Harry, and he smiled at her, enjoying the warmth of her side against his. She said distrustfully, "You're not getting me into bed, Harry Potter. I'm just a sister."

Harry laughed, "Your side is warm, and I like warm." He put an arm around her, "You're my _best _sister. Do you remember how I leaned on you and Ron those first months. I was terrified they'd discover I wasn't a wizard at all and send me back to the Dursleys."

"I was terrified that no-one would be my friends. And for a while, it looked exactly like that. Like the Primary School I went to."

"Because you were too brainy? Someone told me that brainy kids often have no friends."

"Did you have friends in Primary School, Harry?"

"Not many."

Seamus said mournfully, "I shared a tutor with Fiona Craig, who turned out to be Hecatema. You wouldn't _believe _how nice I would have been to her if I'd known!"

Hermione said, "Best not let Susan hear you saying that!"

"She says that as long as I stay reasonably faithful, she's happy enough. She wanted to be with her friends this trip. Hannah's not planning to return to school for seventh year, and neither is Eloise."

He glanced at Harry, "Did you go to bed with either of those, Harry?" Harry was looking out the window, and Seamus repeated his question.

Harry replied, "I was keen on Hannah, but we never even kissed, and I scarcely know Eloise."

"How have you had so much success with girls, Harry?"

"Because I'm Harry Potter, of course. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Child of Light. Now I'm just ordinary, probably no-one will ever ask me again."

Hermione said, amused, "Most boys assume that they will have to do the chasing."

"I have rotten luck when I do the chasing. Maybe better to take what comes."

"Eloise?"

"Probably, if she'd asked me."

Ron observed, "She's pretty ugly."

Harry looked at him in surprise, "_No_ girl is ugly! And any girl who lets me have sex with her is always, invariably, blindingly, heartbreakingly beautiful!"

Hermione laughed, and kicked at Ron, "There, you see! Not that he's the Boy Who Lived, just that he appreciates girls!"

Harry smiled and leaned back his head. He was beginning to be tired. It didn't take much these days. Neville fished in his bag, and handed him a bottled potion, "Snape said you were to drink this."

Harry inspected and said thankfully, "It's only V-Vak Potion. Little more than an enhanced milkshake. Even tastes like one."

Dean asked, "Why do you need it?"

"Too skinny again, Severus says."

Hermione turned to him, and put a hand to his cheek. "Too skinny?"

Harry twinkled at her, "If you don't want to come to bed with me, don't ask me to show you my ribs."

"I won't." She snuggled into his side, and said, "You can put a brotherly arm around me again if you want."

Harry passed the empty flask back to Neville, and complied, wondering why the potion seemed so effortless to take when compared with other foods, even other liquids. He never had asked what went into it. Most potions ingredients were fairly gross.

Draco opened the door and said, "Harry. I want you to come to our carriage for an hour or so." He glanced at Neville, and added, "I promise I'll return him in one piece. Just that some of the seventh years want to say goodbye." He grinned, "Particularly some of the girls." Harry unwound himself from Hermione and carefully stood up.

An hour later, Ron and Neville went to find him. To their utmost surprise, he was sound asleep, a cloak over his shoulders, and leaning against Vayden Carlyle, who had an arm around him. Draco grinned at their stunned looks, and said, "He was cold and tired. That's all. You can't have much of a romance between two males when they both insist on being on top."

Ron was almost spluttering, jealous and upset, but Neville put a restraining hand on the redhead's shoulder, and said quietly, "Bring him back when he's ready. He looks comfortable."

Ron started ranting the moment they were back in their own carriage. The Slytherin bastards taking over their Harry. Neville leaned back in his own seat, closing his eyes. Only when Ron's tirade ran down did he say calmly, "Harry has become close to many of the Slytherins this past year. And I think they realise he's dying. They wouldn't hurt him, Ron."

Dean said, "You could have put your own arm around him, Ron. Or any of us. Only that we're big, tough, masculine Gryffindors, and didn't think of it."

"He looked like some woossy little pansy cuddled up to Vayden!"

"In the Duelling Practical, he whipped two Aurors at once, without even trying. Then defeated the undefeatable targets in record time. I don't think Vayden or anyone else underestimate him."

Hermione said stubbornly, "He's just suffering acute depression. He's _not_ dying!"

Neville said sadly, "He's not unhappy. Just that he tires easily. Maybe it's even a relief for him, that he doesn't have to struggle any more."

"Will Snape look after him?"

"Harry calls him Severus. And I think he would not have come back after last summer if not for his care."

Hermione said suddenly, "What if I've changed my mind? They say that once you Bond, you automatically love your Bonded, and if it could save his life..."

"I spoke to Professor Snape this morning before we left. He said that Harry won't agree, and now it's gone too far. He's going to meet us at King's Cross, and take him right away. He says he might improve for a time then, as he has before."

They were silent a while, and then Hermione said quietly, "The Prophecies might have been right after all. He killed Voldemort, and he'll be dead inside the year."

"What particular prophecy was that one?"

"Granny Abbot - the usual jargon. _Before the world wheels once, the Marked Child of Light will join the one he cries for._ Something like that. It was interpreted that Harry might join him as an ally."

"It's probably part of the reason that Dumbledore tried to keep him under such tight control."

"Maybe."

Seamus said, "The most well-known prophecy said that one had to die at the _hand_ of the other, not because they attacked each other through their minds. So that was wrong, and others were, too. Maybe it'll be Ron's famous prophecy that prevails, that he'll live to a fine old age."

Harry blinked open his eyes, feeling warm and very comfortable. Vayden and Charlie were talking quietly about their planned careers as Aurors, while Draco and Trevor were arguing about World Quidditch. It was their raised voices that had woken him.

Vayden asked quietly, "Still cold?"

Harry sat up, and asked, "What time is it?"

"About two hours until arrival."

"I might go for a stroll. Maybe say hello to a few of the Ravenclaw girls."

Trevor said, "I'll come with you."

Harry didn't object. The train swayed rather, and he was put off balance a little easily these days. He handed Vayden back his cloak, and said, "Ron would throw a fit if he saw me like that. He likes to pretend I'm tough."

Vayden chuckled, "He did see you like that. I think he was jealous."

Harry pulled a face, "Oh, dear."

Trevor said, "Come on then, Harry. If you want to tour the train, we'd best get on with it."

Harry said casually, "Stretching my legs, that's all." It was the same as the seventh years often did, just a stroll up and down the train, checking the occupants of carriages and saying goodbye to the ones they might seldom see again.

A couple of the Ravenclaw seniors, and several of the juniors, especially those who'd helped him with Arithmancy at the beginning of the year. The younger Gryffindors, who'd been apt to hero-worship him. And he stopped at the carriage with Hannah, and casually asked Susan whether she'd be seeing Seamus over the summer. He wasn't saying any goodbyes. He thought he was the only one to know it would be goodbye. Hannah looked away from him, trying not to notice or care that he looked so tired.

Trevor walked with him all the way back to where Ron and Neville and the others waited, kissed him briefly, surprising him, and then left him the moment he was safely seated again.

Ron said carefully, "If you're still cold, you can sit next to me, Harry."

Harry frankly laughed. Ron smiled a little ruefully, and held out an arm in an invitation. Harry settled himself close, and admitted, "I do feel the cold these days. People keep me warm better than anything."

Ron tightened his arm around him, and turned his face away, not wanting Harry to see that his eyes were wet.

Harry said softly, "I could never have had a better friend than you, Ron."

He slept again until the train pulled up finally at King's Cross. It had been a long journey, and even though he'd slept a part of the way, Harry was still weary, and greeted Snape with relief. Snape told him, "Maybe you should just allow Molly Weasley to fuss over you for a moment before we leave."

Molly wanted to fuss over him for longer than a moment, exclaiming over how he'd grown, hugging him close, and then pushing him back, hands on his shoulders, closely inspecting his face. She kissed him finally, and turned back to her own family.

Ginny called, "Have fun over the holidays, Harry." Ron put a restraining arm firmly about her waist. Ginny didn't argue.

It was after dark when they arrived at the small apartment block in the South of France. House-elves greeted them, and Snape said casually that rather than worry about renting, he'd bought the six apartments. "One permanent occupant, who's almost blind, so can stay. And while we're here, I'll fix it up a bit. Maybe sell it, maybe keep it. It's a nice beach, but we're a long way from shops, so not many holiday-makers come here."

Harry looked around, and smiled, "I can hear the surf."

"We're very close to the sea. If you want, we'll walk down, get the feel of the place."

"I would like that."

Snape was satisfied with the boy's brilliant smile as he looked over the dark beach. He knew what he was going to do now. If Harry didn't agree to bond with him, he'd wait until he was too weak to object, and do it without his consent. He would _not _allow Harry to die, and he very much wanted to see him healthy and happy. And if it didn't work, and he died, too? Harry had sacrificed his own childhood for everyone else, whether or not it had been his own choice. It was not too much to ask that one man sacrifice himself in an attempt to save him.

Harry said faintly, that they might just go home now, and Snape grabbed him as he fell.

He was very apologetic when he revived from his faint to find himself lying on a comfortable couch. There was a dinner laid on the table nearby, and for the first time in a long time, Harry was hungry. Not that he ate much, but at least it was solid food. He slept well, while Snape prowled around the apartment block wondering how best to modify it if he were to keep it. A Potions laboratory, maybe upstairs for the ventilation. Probably best to leave the outside looking rundown. Harry might even know spells to stop the rust while preserving the appearance. Everything made new again, especially the balcony. At the moment, he thought that stepping onto those rickety balconies an invitation for them to collapse. He made a few spells then and there to ensure there would be no collapse.

The old lady was in one of the three downstairs apartments, he and Harry in another, but he made an opening in the wall. They'd use both of these apartments. Maybe later, he'd open up the top three apartments, and transform them into a single luxurious holiday home. Harry would like that.

Snape reminded himself that he had a fine line to tread. If Harry had an inkling that he was planning to Bond him without consent, he'd leave, probably. He'd ask him again, of course. The Vere Ultima. Maybe once he started going downhill again. And conscientiously, he used his mobile phone to systematically call every one of those people alert for any hint of a Hecatema. He would not claim Harry as his own if there was a chance that he could have someone better. It was a very simple mobile phone, designed by wizards, for wizards, who were often inept when it came to technology. But Snape had no intention of relying on Owl Post for news. It was too important, and even though the Post Owls were not ordinary birds, they were still slow compared to an ordinary Muggle telephone.

For the next few days, Harry showed gains in both energy and appetite. He helped Snape improve the house, using the knowledge gained in Construction, but most of every day, he spent at the beach. When the sun grew too hot, or he grew too tired, he'd sit on the balcony watching the sea. It seemed to feed something inside him, but maybe it was just that he'd spent an entire childhood yearning to go to the beach, and never having the opportunity. He didn't try and make friends with any others he saw at the beach, but did become friendly with the old lady who lived on the ground floor apartment, Madame Canet. His French started to improve, especially when Snape insisted that he use French as much as possible whenever he spoke to him.

***x***

Dumbledore's funeral. Dignitaries from all over the world, elaborate ceremonial, and a special crypt in the large wizard cemetery in London. There were ranks of Aurors, in uniform, the Wizemgamot, out in force, resplendent in their red robes, and nearly two hundred school students, standing in solid ranks. In front of each House stood four of their prefects, with the seventh year prefects to the side, the two Head Prefects at the front.

Ron groaned, but quietly, "I wish it would end soon. Standing for so long - it's killing me!"

"Harry's not here."

"Did you think he would be?"

"No, but I thought Professor Snape would be."

There was a stir behind them, and a fainting student was helped to the side. Ron grinned, "Break ranks? With the excuse of looking after any more casualties of too long standing in the sun?"

"I think we could do that."

Before long there were more students sitting on the ground, until the last speaker thought that perhaps, after all, he should cut his speech short. Dumbledore's lifetime's achievements had already been repeated several times, and they all knew that it was a terrible loss to Wizardkind.

Afterwards, Hermione said, "I'll write and tell him about the funeral. It might annoy him so much that he'll get better and come home."

"Was he against him that much?"

"Hard to say. He called him a manipulative old bastard once, but was nearly always very respectful in his presence."

Two days later, Harry ran his eyes down her letter, and said, "Dumbledore's funeral, Severus, I forgot all about it. I would have assumed you'd have wanted to go."

Snape replied, "I served him for most of my life. It didn't make any difference whether I went to his funeral. And in any case, I lost a lot of my faith in him these last few years, more when you pointed out just _why_ we all thought he was such a wisely benevolent person."

"The Mind-Magic."

"I should have detected it myself. I've studied skills of the mind."

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask. What are Binding Bracelets?"

"Dark magic. Illegal, of course. You Bind a foe's magic, a bracelet around each wrist."

"I thought it had to be something like that. Dumbledore was considering ways that a too-powerful young wizard could be weakened. Once I'd killed Voldemort, of course."

Snape stared, and then shook his head, positively. "No matter what, I do think that Albus cared for you. He would not have considered such a thing."

"Maybe not. It doesn't matter any more."

It didn't matter any more, and Dumbledore's thought had been that Binding Bracelets were unsuitable, as they could not be concealed. Something to take away Harry's power, something to discredit him. Harry didn't know what, if anything, Dumbledore had decided on, but he did know that it was possible that if events had not made it unnecessary, he might have been faced with another killing, merely so that he could be left to live. As it was, Dumbledore had died, and he was shortly to die.

***x***

Bertrand and Laurent Chazaud, aged thirteen and fourteen, were unhappy and bad-tempered. Their sister, Justine, had been taken away to their remote home in the Camargue, and they knew a lot more than their sisters, who were fed only the reassuring fairy tales. Wizards would fight for Justine, and then she'd be subject to a brutal rape. Magic would not work against her, to make the rape more easy, maybe by use of the Stun Sell, or the Snail Spell. It had to be physical, and as it was said that Hecatemae always fought, and as it was imperative that no other wizard interfere, it was almost always fast and violent. The boys at school had been talking about Hecatemae, and while most had repeated the yarns about their beauty and desirability, there were also tales of deaths and injuries, sometimes of the Hecatema, more often of the berserk wizards who fought for her.

Their mother and father were with Justine, and later there were to be three uncles as well, to try and protect. The boys knew that they should not talk of it to any strangers, and had been very firmly warned that they must never frighten the girls with any of the stories they heard, preferably not talk to them about it at all. Their precious, vulnerable little sisters, just four and six. One day they would be isolated as Justine was to be. Not yet. It wouldn't start for a couple of weeks, and meantime their Grandmother Madeline was with her, teaching and explaining, while Grandfather Tomas and their father were preparing the retreat. It was away from the homestead, in case of damage, with a strong wall around, but with gates. The aim was to prevent the chase turning into a dangerous melee, not to prevent a Bonding. A Hecatema had to be Bonded.

They slouched along the beach, scuffing into the sand with their feet, hands in their pockets. Bertrand looked like his sisters, pale blonde, very fair-skinned, and slightly built. Laurent, the eldest, was a big boy for his age, and had freckles and light brown hair. They were in a fight with a bigger boy that day, two against one, but they still lost, and then had to put up with Aunt Camille raking them down for stooping to fighting like a Muggle.

Meantime, Harry sat peaceably on the dry sand, watching the waves roll in. He was not far away, noticed the boys and their bad temper, noticed the little girls, watched over by their aunt, but wasn't interested in being sociable. The sea was enough for him.

Every day, he walked along the water's edge, going a little further after the first day, before he discovered he'd gone too far to make it home. Snape came to find him that day, took him into the sand dunes, and apparated them both home. It was dangerous to apparate while tired or ill, and Harry was both.

That evening, the tenth day into the holidays, Snape took his measurements, regarded them soberly, and said bluntly, "You're sinking."

"I know. I'll end it before I become helpless. You won't have to clean me up or anything."

Snape went to him where he sat, took both of his hands in his own, and said, "Harry, I care very deeply about you. I want to Bond with you. I know it may not seem like the brightest prospect, but we can be happy, and you will regain your health. You want to return to Hogwarts, don't you? You want to see your son, whom Trevor and Malene will raise. Your building firm, remember? You told me that Vincent Crabbe wanted to work with you."

Harry watched him, frowning a little, before saying softly, "I'm not unhappy, Severus. You do need someone, but not me. You need a woman to love. And besides, it might not work. I can't be responsible for your death."

"It _will_ work. I am positive that it will work."

"Severus... I am touched that you should make such an offer, really. But it's best that I go. I want to go. It's been too long, and I'm tired."

Snape caressed his hair, in a tender gesture, "Tired?"

Harry explained, "It's the hole in me, you see. It just got bigger and bigger, and now I'm more hole than person. It's too late. Maybe it's been too late since I killed him. I know I'm not really going to him. I don't believe in life after death. But I still want to go."

Snape pulled him to his feet, pulled him close, hugging him tightly. Once he felt he could speak, he said, "For me? Make me happy. I could _love_ you, Harry. I want to love you."

Harry returned the embrace, almost overwhelmed that this unusual man could say such a thing.

At last, Snape sighed, and allowed him to sit back into his chair. "If you change your mind, let me know. And promise! You are not to end it without warning me. It's only basic consideration."

"I will not end it without warning you."

Snape gave another quick caress to his hair, wheeled around, and retreated to the top floor, where he had some potions brewing. It was what he did, even when he had no specific use for them. He could lose himself in his potion brewing.

There was also a supply of potions he'd prepared months before, including a modified Compliance Potion. Illegal except in specified situations with mental patients. Snape had added calming ingredients to the potion. There was another, very powerful. He'd completed that only days before school ended, three months in the making. It was not illegal as such, only that it contained several illegal ingredients. It would impart strength and energy, and its effects would last up to a fortnight. It would be needed if Harry was to go on a Hecatema chase while he was ill. Weak or sick wizards never felt the Call, but Snape thought that Harry was so absolutely right for a Hecatema that he would feel the Call anyway.

At breakfast the following morning, Harry was obviously wanting to say something, fiddling with his cutlery, twirling his empty glass around and around in his fingers. Snape was a little fascinated, watching the agility of the fingers' movements. Harry had a graceful hand. In so many ways, Harry was beautiful. Not just his body, but his spirit, or at least Severus Snape thought so. The Child of Light. Of course he was the Child of Light.

Snape said calmly, "Any time you say the word, Harry. By tonight you could be healed. Within a week or so, you could be strong again."

Harry half-grinned, "Surely you'd prefer a woman. I can't imagine a male body holding much attraction."

"You went with Trevor."

"I like him. If he'd been a girl, it might have lasted longer."

Snape asked again, plainly, "Please will you Bond with me?"

"No Severus. I will not Bond with you."

Snape hadn't really hoped for a change of mind, and instead asked, "So what did you want to say?"

Harry looked up at him frankly, "Is it too much trouble for you? I've accepted so much from you, and unless I impose myself on someone else, or go to a hotel or something, you'll be left with a body to make arrangements for."

Snape sighed, "I thought I'd return you to England. You said it was mentioned that there was property in your name. You can choose, the London wizard cemetery, or your own property."

"I don't care where I'm buried. Whatever's easiest. I've made you executor of my will, as well. There's a few personal bequests, but the bulk of it's to go to my son. I don't have much idea what there is, and it'll be a lot of work." He looked up at Snape, and said, "I'm sorry if it's all a mess."

"It won't be. The Goblins will have kept things in order, and the transfer will be smooth." Snape put out a hand, and touched his. "Never think you owe me. You gave me my freedom and my life. And you've given me something more. You're precious to me. If you consented to be my Bond-mate, I would be the happiest man alive."

Harry said stubbornly, "You're only forty or so. You could find a woman and have a family. As you said, you're free now. It's time you took advantage of that."

"I can't imagine it any more. It's been too long since Adeline."

Harry grinned, "I'll keep an eye open for you. There's a family I see sometimes, two brothers, two sisters. Their Aunt's looking after them. She might be free. At least, I've never seen a man with them."

Snape spoke scathingly, "You'd pair me up with a Muggle?"

"They have the feel of wizards. I spoke to the boys once."

"Did they recognise you?"

"No, they just happened to come to help. I was wading a bit deep, and a wave knocked me over. I had trouble getting up."

"I'm surprised they didn't recognise you."

Harry shrugged, "We're not in England any more."

"So what do you mean, they had the feel of wizards?"

"Surely you can feel it too. Wizards just feel different from Muggles."

"There wouldn't be any need for careful testing if it was easy to tell."

More mail the following day, some for Harry. He glanced at a request for an interview, and tossed it aside. That was one thing that Dumbledore had mostly protected him from. His exam results, and he opened them, mildly interested. Snape watched, also interested. Harry scanned over them - "No fails," and picked up the third letter. From Gringotts, asking him when he intended to visit with a view to taking over his inheritance.

Snape said, "If you want, I'll handle your business. You can simply sign."

Harry said reluctantly, "I guess. It'll only be a week or so. There's no point me worrying."

Snape said briskly, taking the letters, "If you want to live after all, you know what to do."

"Yes..."

Harry sat a long time on the beach that day, in the chair that Snape had brought out for him, wearing a hat, and little else. He had a mobile phone with him now. If he wanted Severus, he had only to call. It was very warm. His results, all good, even Arithmancy. Construction, which he'd meant to do next year. And Charms. Flitwick had told him of advanced Charms that he would very much like to learn. Did he have property? What had happened to Godric's Hollow, where his parents had been killed? He didn't even know whether they'd owned the house, had never seen where they were buried. He'd asked Dumbledore once, and had only been told that everything came in its season. Severus seemed convinced that he could save him with a new bond. But Severus Snape? A man? Harry grinned ruefully to himself - he couldn't see Severus allowing him to go on top. But in any case, he might care for Severus, might be grateful to him for looking after him, but being sexually attracted to him? He couldn't imagine it.

He shook his head, decisively. He did _not_ want to bond with a man. And besides, surely it was very risky for Severus! Maybe he should simply make more of an effort to eat, maybe it was only a matter of trying harder.

***x***


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling__._

_Terms used:__ Anirage is the technical name for Wizardkind. Aniragi is the language. Spells are sometimes in Aniragi rather than Latin or English. The Holocaust referred to below is the witch-burnings of the Middle Ages, which left the Aniragi population decimated. _

_**Chapter 18:**_

Snape continued to take his readings every morning. For a few days, the decline slowed, but on the fifteenth day into July, Snape knew it was time. Sixteen points down in a day. He asked, briefly, "The Vere Ultima?"

Harry shook his head, and said, "I am very grateful to you, Severus, for offering that, when I'm quite convinced you'll be happier with a woman. And for everything else you've done for me. Dying is not so bad. I don't think anyone ever expected me to live into adulthood."

Snape nodded, "I'll take your chair to the beach. Are you ready?"

"Yes, please."

Once Harry was settled, Snape returned to the apartments and commenced his preparations. Harry no longer went upstairs, and the middle apartment had been transformed. The bedroom and sitting room had been combined, and with the help of the house-elves, was now immaculate and very nicely furnished. In the centre, there was a large bed. In an unbroken circle around the bed, carefully inscribed on the floor, were the spells in preparation for the Oligata Ultima Bond. Snape started activation with the chanting of the ancient spells. In seven places, at precise points, he carefully marked runes with his own blood.

It took two hours, and Snape took a deep breath. The final stage would be enacted when he laid Harry on the bed for the Claiming. The Soul Bond would come into existence with the act of sex, plus the words, _Oligata Vere, I Claim you._ It didn't matter if the boy was restrained with ropes or spells or potions, as long as he was not totally unconscious. It had to be done within twenty-four hours, otherwise the magic would die, and he'd have to start all over again. He planned to do it after dinner, with the help of the Compliance Potion and Harry's weariness. He was always very tired by the end of the day.

Harry sat in his chair, looking at the sea. It beckoned to him. He left his chair, left his mobile phone, and waded slowly into the sea, allowing the water to support his body. It was very calm, and he felt a pure contentment. He whispered, "Tom. I'm coming soon, Tom. You won't be alone any more." He should be buried close to him. He'd have to tell Severus.

He didn't notice the big, redheaded man beside him until a supporting arm was around him, and some words in a kindly tone, but quite firm. Harry was confused, and asked, "Mr. Weasley?"

He understood, "Mssr. Briand," but couldn't understand what else he was saying, except that he was to go to shore now. Harry obeyed, a little upset to find that he could no longer stand by himself. And he shouldn't have done that. Severus would have been annoyed with him if he'd made a fuss by drowning. Probably there would already be a wizard healer lined up to pronounce death. He wouldn't want problems with Muggle authorities.

Snape was surprised at the urgent knocking. A Muggle woman was looking back at the beach, a worried frown on her face. She turned to him quickly, and asked, "Does Harry live here, Monsieur?"

Snape asked quickly, "Is he all right?"

"Very tired. If he lives here, we'll help him home."

"I'll come."

Like all wizard homes, even temporary ones, there were enchantments around the doors and windows. Wizard homes were not subject to thieves, vandals, or nuisance callers. Snape left the home unlocked without a second thought.

Ten minutes later, he had Harry cradled to his side on the couch. Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry, Severus. I wasn't thinking."

Snape kissed him very softly on the head. He'd come close to losing him. He wouldn't wait for evening. He'd do it now.

Harry didn't query when he was instructed to swallow an unfamiliar potion. It was easy to take. It was one of Snape's specialties, modifying Potion formulae to make them easier to take.

Snape said, "You can sleep a little, if you want. But you're not allowed to die. I'm not ready."

Harry didn't query this odd statement, just closed his eyes. He felt peaceful and warm, held firmly by Severus Snape. Snape was overwhelmed by the tenderness he felt for his boy. Once Harry was breathing deeply and quietly, he eased him back onto the couch, a pillow under his head. A spell to ensure that if anyone came to the door, they'd know to go away without knocking. One last check on the prepared bedroom, then Snape slowly and deliberately washed himself. His robe was light, but expensive. It was the day he was to enter a Marriage Bond. It was a significant occasion.

Harry was now firmly under the influence of the Compliance Potion, but in any case, he might not have thought of querying Snape, whom he trusted implicitly, the only adult he did trust.

Snape roused him, took him into the bathroom, and undressed him. Harry accepted it. Accepted the tender caress of his hands as he was washed, his hair shampooed and some scented lotion touched into his skin. He took no notice as a couple of spells were whispered. He never wondered that he wasn't curious as to what was happening, what he was being prepared for. Severus was looking after him, and that was enough.

Severus Snape was full of a calm joy. He'd so seldom been happy in his life - just those few brief months with Adeline. He'd done terrible things, but this wonderful boy, the Child of Light who was to be his - it was like he was forgiven. Like the gods had finally smiled on him.

The phone rang, and Snape's heart dropped like a stone. He couldn't _bear_ to give him up now! And surely Harry was too weak to chase off after a Hecatema. He hesitated, and reached down to touch Harry, who looked back at him with total trust. Snape told him to wait and took the phone to the next room.

He'd known it was the Hecatema he'd been waiting for, known the moment the phone had sounded. He listened carefully, but argued when the man insisted that he must have the money in his account _before _he provided details of where to go.

Snape agreed in the end. He'd promised a small fortune, more if his protégé won the Hecatema. He loved Harry. Harry deserved this chance, even if the odds of him winning were small. Even if he failed, and then died too quickly for Snape to Bond him. Severus Snape, behind his sarcastic manner and bitter temper, was a good man.

He started organising the money to go into Pierre Lovegood's account. By the time that the transaction was through, Lovegood had contacted over a score of other wizards, and been promised more sums of money. At least he stopped when Snape told him the money was through, and he did provide a description of the area and a suitable apparation point. Once there, they would not be able to apparate. A wizard under the influence of the Call, even in the second degree, must not apparate.

Harry smiled at him sleepily when he was roused again. He didn't argue when Snape dressed him in the battle dress he'd brought back from Germany and then strapped on the wrist holster.

Snape started talking about Hecatemae. "You have to keep your head. Don't be hit in the back by another wizard chasing. Don't dream of apparating. If you're First Order, you'll know her name, and exactly where she is. If you're Second Order, follow one who seems to know, then stun him and take over. You will have to bring down her shields, then before anything else, put up your own shields. You must not be interrupted."

Harry objected, "I can't rape a girl, Severus."

"Then don't. Once your shields are up, there's no hurry. That's because you're more powerful than anyone. Make your shields as powerful as you can, and you will have time. She will know what you need to do, and if you give her time, she will yield herself to you. Once it's over, use the phone to call me. You know how to do it. Just press the S button."

"Yes, Severus."

It occurred to Snape that Compliance Potion was something he should use more often. He liked it that Harry wasn't arguing. He had no expectation that the girl would yield to Harry or anyone else. Hecatemae never did. But Harry wouldn't fail. He might be the Child of Light, might be an inherently gentle person, in spite of his fighting ability, but he would forcibly claim the girl, the same as any other man under the influence of that maddening Call.

He continued, "If it takes time, remember to eat and drink. I have put a few things in a small backpack, which you're to wear. Do not kill or cripple anyone even if they're in the way. There will be a few men of the family there, maybe female Aurors. They will be dressed distinctively. It is unlikely they'll interfere with you. Stun them if they do, but don't hurt them."

He held up a glass. "Take this potion now. It will give you strength. It's very strong, and will last several days. If the Call stops, then someone else has taken her and you return here. Phone me if you think you are not fit to apparate, and I will come."

He kissed him, firmly on the mouth, to Harry's surprise, and said, in a voice that shook slightly, "I want you to be happy, Harry. Winning this girl will make you happy, and that will make me happy."

"Yes, Severus."

Snape said, "We will apparate in a moment." He turned Harry to him, and said firmly, "Once in the place, you will feel the Call. You must not give in to it. I have another potion for you to take first."

"Yes, Severus."

"Understand me. We go there, and you _stop, _and you _wait._ You do not go until I give you this."

It was the antidote for the Compliance Potion. Harry wouldn't win a Hecatema if he was under the influence of Compliance Potion.

Jean Chazaud tried to heal his brother's leg, which had a deep gash from a Slicing Curse. He'd also been stunned, but maybe it was best that he remain unconscious until Tomas had taken him to Madeline. Madeline was Hecatema, and healing spells were well within her competence. The Chazaud men, on the other hand, were ordinary wizards, with no fighting experience, and no more power than average. They were no match for the shouting, fighting wizards who milled around the small building that was the current home of Justine.

Another uncle, Marcel, said bitterly, "Word's got out, obviously. And see that one in the bright green cape? That's an Auror's uniform. What hope do we have against an Auror?"

"We should have asked the help of the Hecatema Squad. Only that I didn't trust their discretion."

"Five of us, including Tomas. I thought we could manage."

"If only Madeline herself could have helped, but she said just being close was too horrible. She says she still remembers her own absolute terror."

Jean said, tormented, "It's awful. My little girl. And she's only sixteen."

"We try again to control them?"

Tomas said, "Wait for me. I'll take Jacques to Madeline, then we'll form a rank, and stun all but the Auror. That might be best."

Severus's eyes went to Harry's groin when they apparated into the area, seeing his immediate physical excitement. Wizards who felt the full power of the Call showed exactly what it was all about. He found it hard to concentrate himself. Wizards over forty never felt the Call in its full power, but they certainly felt its effects. He asked, "Harry, do you know her name?"

Harry stared to the South-West, and said, "Justine. I can see her. She's Calling me."

Every single wizard who felt the First Order Call was convinced that it was for them, personally, and that all the others who also felt it, had to be mistaken. Snape put a command in his voice, "You do not go yet. You do not apparate. You put on the backpack." Harry put on the backpack. Snape touched a hand to his boy's mouth, wanting to kiss. Harry didn't even acknowledge it, still staring in the direction of Justine, who wanted him.

Snape sighed, handed him the antidote to the Compliance Potion, and instructed him to drink. Harry drank, and Snape nodded, "You can go now. Call me when..." But Harry had disapparated. At least there were no bloodied parts of him left, so the forbidden apparation might have been successful. Could a man apparate to a girl when he could only feel her in the distance?

Harry stood still, trying to think. He was close to several men whose capes were crossed with a bright blue strip, that had the word prominently marked, _Famille. _Family then, trying to keep control over events. His eyes were dragged to the fight, just as three more men appeared, running towards the small building. He said to himself, fearfully, "They're going to tear her apart!"

Two of the family men whirled around, seeing him behind them. It was very dangerous to get between a crazed man and the Hecatema he wanted. One backed away, and one tried to stun him. Harry reacted with blinding speed, and it was Tomas who fell, stunned. Harry surrounded himself with a shield, and then systematically started to stun each of those berserkers trying to hurt his Justine. Not a normal stun, a twelve hour stun. He needed time.

There was some brief fighting, as three of them combined in an attempt to take him down, then more turned to face this new threat.

Jean watched and said quietly, "It could be this one. We will not interfere with him." Marcel revived Tomas, who scrambled to his feet.

Justine breathed a sigh of relief as the sounds of fighting died down. She hadn't expected it to be like this, and had been quite content until someone had brought down the Silencing Shield. She couldn't see out, but there had been bangs and shouts and curses. She sat in a chair, trembling and chanting to herself her mother's story, "Only the best for a Hecatema. The best and kindest and wisest... Love's first kiss, and then you will be happy..."

But she was very frightened, and when the man opened the door, she backed away from him, as far as she could go.

Harry kept his wits, didn't give in to the instincts that screamed at him to take the girl without delay, but instead used his wand to make his own shields. He'd first discovered in Construction Class that his own spells had become strong enough that others could seldom break them. He had time, and his poor girl was terrified.

He sat down against the wall, on the opposite side of the room, and waited, trying to convey calm. Dumbledore could do it, and he guessed that he could too.

Tomas said, "He's inside. Probably just a few minutes." He'd been very quick to claim his Madeline. He'd never felt guilt. It was nature's way that a Hecatema only came into her sexuality, as well as her power, once she was Bonded.

Jean asked, "Dominique?" Dominique was sixty, and not a blood relative of Justine's. He could feel the Call, while her blood relatives could not.

Dominique shook his head, "It hasn't stopped."

Jean fretted up and down, pacing. Another wizard came racing towards them. Tomas stunned him and said, "Give him time. Any more, take them down straightaway."

"I wish he'd hurry! Doesn't he realise how dangerous it is out here?"

Tomas said reassuringly, "If he's being gentle, that's good. And we saw what a fighter he is. With the little ones, this young fighter will be at our side, to help look after them."

Jean groaned, "I don't want to think of two more like this." He paced again, and said loudly, "By the gods, it's hard enough for a father to allow a _boyfriend_ liberties with his daughter! This is dreadful!"

Tomas reassured, "There is only one man in with her, so there's little danger to her. Once it's done, she'll be happy with him."

Justine was beginning to be calmer as she studied the young man on the other side of the room. Just sitting down, non-threatening, and talking to her. She tilted her head, with a sudden desire to giggle. His French was atrocious, and interspersed with English.

"Nay peur, Justine. Ne peurez toi. Do not be frightened, little one. Petite darling. Petite beautiful one. Bella."

She spoke softly, and in English, "Bella is Italian."

Harry smiled at her, and said, "Mon nom est Harry."

"Arry."

Harry nodded, and asked, "Is it all right if I get up now?"

There was a wave of renewed fear from the girl, and a sudden clear thought, _Love's first kiss._ Love's first kiss? Didn't she know then that it was sex that made the Bond? Harry didn't get up, and said quietly, "You are lovely, and I want very much to kiss you."

"You are very young."

"I am sixteen. My name is Harry."

"Harry." She tilted her head to the side, studying him. Black hair, long for a youth. It shone, as if recently washed. She took a step closer and he rose to his feet, but didn't approach.

Harry had a control of his own mind unique for someone of his age. The link with Voldemort, and their mind-battles, had forced him to develop his control. His blood was racing, the Call of the Hecatema crying out to him to throw her to the floor and take her. But he forced it down and waited, as she took one hesitant step after another until she was standing close.

She was surprised. He smelt of something... She wasn't sure what it was, but she liked it. She leaned forward, kissed him, and whispered, "Love's first kiss, but I feel no different."

Harry spoke very softly, "I need to kiss you. And I think we should lie down on the bed. It is not just a kiss that makes the Bond. I want to make love to you."

"Make love?" Justine had never even heard the phrase, but when he urged her, she lay down on the bed with him, and he kissed her, very gently, and allowed his hands to roam, caressing. She wore just a brief shift of white satin, slits up both sides to the waist, with white lace edging the slits, and also over her breasts. It scarcely covered her, a garment designed to make it easy to move to intercourse. Maybe he could do it without too much alarming the girl. According to hearsay, Hecatemae were impossible to seduce, were virgins until the Bonding, and never strayed afterwards.

Justine's Call was thrumming through his blood and through his mind. He was painfully erect, but he caressed gently, soothing, kissing tenderly and murmuring endearments, part in fractured French, part in English. He was not trying to arouse a nonexistent passion, merely trying to calm. No sudden moves, taking care not to frighten. His knees coaxing hers apart.

She submitted, looking up into his eyes. He smelled so clean, so nice. He moved his lips against hers, coaxing her lips apart. She moved restlessly, not liking it. He didn't desist. It was distracting her from what his hand was doing, freeing himself from the pants, and then touching over her, with a silent spell that moistened and lubricated. She gasped, as he pressed himself into her, then cried out in pain, and tried to free herself.

Outside, Dominique said quietly, "It's stopped." The Call stopped the moment the girl's virginity was breached, but the Bond wasn't made until the completion of the act.

Harry held the girl down, unable to stop himself, no longer being gentle. A few final thrusts, and it was done. He pressed kisses over the face of the dazed girl, and said that it was wonderful, it was good, it was the way it had to be. And, "I give myself to you. I am yours. My life is yours."

He withdrew and gathered the dazed girl into his arms. She didn't resist. She'd gone into the almost tranquillised state that immediately followed the Bonding.

Technically, it had been a rape, but no more than most girls experience the first time, when they try and fight free of the unexpected hurt. For the first mating of a Hecatema, it was a miracle of tenderness.

Harry was filled with a total joy. He loved her. How he loved her! His life was hers and he was so amazingly happy. On the wall, there was a board where messages could be written. A query appeared. Harry took no notice. There was a Transfer Table as well, where meals and other items could be sent in and out without using the door. A newly Bonded Hecatema was not expected to emerge from seclusion for some days, longer if they were in a place such as Hogwarts, that was full of magic.

An hour later, Harry made love to her again. There was no resistance this time, and afterwards, they slept, wrapped in each other's arms.

Jean fretted in his anxiety, but Madeline extended her senses, and assured him that she could feel the presence of the two. No-one had died. "They're sleeping. They'll be fine."

"Is she injured?"

"No, but he's undernourished. I don't know why. You should provide a meal, but include soft foods, easy to digest."

Tomas indicated, "These?" Twenty-three wizards lay scattered around, under the Beundiya Stun. Several had injuries, though none inflicted by Harry. Justine's family had little sympathy, and had made no attempt to heal them.

Madeline revived them, and commented, "The one who got to her... He's very powerful. It's no wonder you couldn't revive them yourself."

Most of the wizards looked towards the small building where Justine and Harry lay close. But it was obvious that they'd lost. They quietly disapparated. The Auror checked the injured ones. All Aurors were trained in First Aid, and once they were healed, those, too, disapparated, one with a brief apology to the family, who didn't acknowledge it.

The Auror asked, "Was it the youth?"

Tomas was curt, but confirmed it was the youth. The Auror said, "He's an amazing fighter, and he wore professional battle dress. I think it's Harry Potter, the English fighter they used to make a fuss of."

The men of the family still showed their hostility, and the Auror shrugged. It was the way of Hecatemae. They turned men mad. He had nothing to apologise for. Only when he left, did Tomas say, "It only lasted a few hours. It could have been a lot worse." Usually it was a couple of days before someone managed to bring down the shields.

Justine woke, didn't move, and just looked at her Soul Mate. She could feel him through the Bond. And she could see him, surrounded by a golden light, part made up of the love he had for her, part the gold of his pure power. She would get better at interpreting the colours. Grandmother Madeline had told her.

Very gently, she smoothed his hair away from his forehead, seeing an old, faded scar. He belonged to her. He'd said that. That he gave himself to her. Her forehead creased for a moment. But he'd hurt her. She couldn't understand why he'd hurt her. She touched him again. He was in her head, and he was good and kind and wonderful, just as they'd said. Wise? She didn't know about wise. In her experience, sixteen-year-old boys were uniformly thoroughly foolish. Not that she'd known many. Just a few cousins she saw sometimes. He'd hurt her, but he belonged to her. She would never admit to anyone that he'd hurt her.

Justine washed herself, and garbed herself in another of those flimsy gowns before answering the query on the blackboard. _Who are you? Is our Justine all right?_

Justine glanced back at Harry, still asleep. She wasn't their Justine any more. She belonged to the black-haired youth who was filled with joy, and who was hungry. She smiled wryly. A life-changing event, and her Soul Mate was dreaming of roast lamb! She wrote, _I'm fine. His name is Harry. Can we have something to eat?_

Jean heaved a sigh of utmost relief. His daughter was all right, no-one had died, Jacques was cured and the casualties among the berserkers were not serious, though one or two would be scarred, he suspected. Serve them right. They should not have gone so totally mad. Jean himself had never felt the Call of a Hecatema in its full power. He might have been more understanding if he had.

Snape paced around and around the block of apartments, then stayed staring at the bed for a while. How long would it take? Harry wasn't like other wizards. He'd probably take the shields down without the slightest problem. But he'd apparated, when First Order Called were incapable of mustering the concentration to apparate. Was he alive? Apparators occasionally simply vanished. It was why it wasn't used more often.

The call finally came at four in the afternoon. Harry sounded so happy. Well and happy. His boy, whom he'd come so close to claiming. Severus Snape felt as if encased by ice. The careful inscriptions on the floor, with all their latent power, were erased with a wave of his wand, the bed moved back to a more normal position, and then he called for alcohol. It was very late that night when Snape went to bed. Only in the night, with the release that the alcohol gave him, did he cry. So close. He had been so close to having what he wanted, what he needed.

***x***

Harry and Justine stayed very close to each other, totally absorbed in each other. Harry wanted to make love several times that day, and again the following day. Justine didn't resist, sharing his overwhelming joy in the act, even when to begin with, it was still uncomfortable for her. In the evening of the second day, there was a change, when she suddenly felt a soaring excitement of her own. From then on, it was Justine who tended to initiate the lovemaking. She couldn't have imagined such bliss.

The ones outside provided meals, laundered their clothing, and left them alone. Harry removed the opaque wooden shields from the windows, so that they could see out, but Justine was still frightened to leave their protected rooms. It all looked different with magic shimmering through the air. With the instinct of the Soul Mate to a Hecatema, Harry helped her learn to shield her mind, so that when she wanted, she could shut off the colours, and the world would look normal. He made a mistake, casually conjuring an extra chair when he needed one, only to have her give a cry of alarm. She'd seen the spell, felt the spell. It was scary, and she didn't like it! Harry held her close, and said that they'd go very slow. She'd get used to it, that there was no need for her to see magic until she was ready.

On the fourth day, Antoinette sent a query. Would it be all right if she came to visit? Justine looked doubtfully at her Harry. Harry smiled at her reassuringly, "She's your mother. She needs to see you."

Antoinette said to Madeline, "She says yes, please."

"Remember what I told you then. She will see the colours of you, and it will make her nervous. Do not feel hurt if she clings to Harry. It is what he's for. He is her anchor, while she learns to feel comfortable with the new way of seeing things."

"When will her magic return?"

"Usually about three weeks after the Bonding."

It was just as Madeline had said. Justine was startled by the colours, shrank back from her mother, and clung to Harry. Antoinette anxiously scrutinised her daughter's face, relieved that there was no bruising. Maybe it hadn't been too bad. And her new son-in-law? Just a youth, with his arm around her daughter. He looked too thin. He extended a hand, "My name is Harry Potter."

Antoinette shook his hand and greeted him politely, but looked yearningly at her daughter, wanting to take her into her arms.

Harry said softly, "Maybe she can just touch your hand. But I think a hug at this stage might hurt her." He thought to Justine, _She doesn't know what to do. A touch will comfort her. _Justine reached out and touched her mother's hand, jumped at the intense sensations that shot through her, and shrank back to Harry.

Antoinette asked painfully, "Daughter, is it all right?"

Justine smiled from the shelter of her Soul Mate's embrace, "It is wonderful. I plan to have many daughters, so that they can all have what I have."

Antoinette wiped her eyes, and said, "When you're ready, maybe in a month, we'll have a celebration. Invite all the family, and Harry's family will want to come."

Harry said, "I have no family, but there is someone I would invite." He wanted Severus to see what he'd done for him, but to have Hermione and Ron and Neville in this remote and beautiful region would change it. He'd write them letters, instead.

There was quicker progress after that, as Justine became more comfortable. By the time the first week was over, she and Harry were exploring the property, the marshes and beaches and islands. Her mother and father were hugged without any qualms, and Antoinette asked if it was time to bring the rest of the family to join them. "They're at the beach at the moment, being looked after by an aunt."

Harry said, "I think I've already met the boys. Severus and I were staying at an apartment close."

"How do you know it's them?"

"Two little blonde girls, who look like Justine. Two older boys, and I heard one of them refer to Tante Camille."

Antoinette smiled, "You are right. Quite a coincidence."

Harry said to Justine, "There's Severus. He must be very lonely now. Would it bother you if I made a quick visit? Maybe just a half hour?"

Justine looked uncertain, and Harry squeezed her hand. "I'll ring him again. There's no hurry."

Antoinette said, "Maybe we could invite him here for a few days. There's plenty of spare bedrooms."

Snape was in a state of acute depression. Harry might have been dying of something like depression, but he'd never felt the acute unhappiness that Snape was experiencing. It seemed so unfair, that he'd come so close. And then when he'd felt the Call himself, the sexual desire it had given rise to... If Harry had been only Second Order himself, he might have agreed to Bond then and there. No need for elaborate preparations when it was a voluntary bond. It was all finished now... He'd probably scarcely see the boy again. He tried to tell himself not to be selfish, that there were more important things than his own desires. But Severus Snape had been putting other people ahead of himself for so many years now. And he was over forty. What was left for him?

There was a knock at the door, and Jean Chazaud introduced himself and his sister, Camille. Camille stared at the sallow-faced man, with the weary sadness in his eyes, and extended a hand, "I'm Camille. You should come with us for a few days. It's a lovely place where your friend is now. You can come riding with us. We always ride the Camargue horses when we're there." Camille was a widow, aged forty-two.

There was something about Harry and Justine's absolute happiness in each other that was catching. Within a few days, Severus Snape ended his long celibacy, and when the promised celebration of Harry and Justine's union was made, there was also a quiet ceremony that Bonded Severus Snape and Camille Chazaud. Just the normal Marriage Bond, the Vere Ultima was unnecessary. A Bond Marriage was prudent. There were two more Hecatemae growing up in the family, and Snape was unrelated.

***chapter end***


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. The Hecatema concept belongs to the Fanfiction author, pen-name Beren, though the concept of the Hecatema Chase is mine. _

_**Note**__**: Unvoiced dialogue is that written in italics.**_

_**Chapter 19:**_

Justine urged on her white mare, and Harry followed her, staying close. He hadn't ridden a horse until recently, but riding a horse was a lot easier than riding a broomstick.

It was the tenth August, the day after the Celebrations, and Harry suggested, _Camus Island? _

He felt her agreement, and her mare turned towards the place where they'd splash through the shallows to the island. It was all low lying ground, some marshy, but quite a lot of firm sand, where semi-wild Camargue ponies galloped. A wild bird started up noisily from just in front of Justine's horse, who took not the slightest notice.

Justine remarked, _Her name's She-Dragon. I named her when she was a yearling, playing stallions with her friends. But she grew up to be more placid than any other._

Harry patted his own mount, another white mare, with shaggy mane and tail. Her name was Connie. It was a balmy day, sunny, with just shreds of white cloud drifting placidly across the sky. He radiated a feeling to her, wanting to share, just the pure feeling of his content.

Justine flashed back a smile. It was _good_ to be Hecatema. She loved the colours around her. She'd never known how magic laced the world, discernible even in things like the grasses and the low scrub.

They set out the picnic, casually conjuring tables and chairs. Justine admitted she'd never mastered conjuring, but now it was effortless. Any sort of magic was effortless.

It was only after they ate, that Harry spoke aloud, in a serious discussion voice. "Your father asked how I was going to support you. He pointed out that I was still of school age."

Justine replied in a tone of surprise, "I hadn't even thought of it."

"I have plenty of money. If we wanted, we could just live on my parents' money."

"You don't want to, do you?"

"What I wanted before was to finish school, then enter a traineeship in the building trade. Ultimately have my own building firm. Do the architecture myself, using my own ideas."

"The gardens too? You were very interested in our gardens."

"One of the subjects I asked for was Decorative Gardening."

"But what about me?"

"If you want, you could go to classes as well. You won't need classes in magic, of course, but maybe History or anything else you want."

Justine looked down at the tablecloth, the leftover food vanished and a coffee stain disappeared. She said quietly, "I'm not very brave, and I'm not very smart. I can't manage without you. If you go to school, I'd be left alone."

"Hecatemae have special arrangements made. They'd give us a place of our own, like the married professors have. We'd still be together."

"What would your friends say?"

"They'll be very envious. I'm the happiest man alive, because I have you. If you don't want school, we can do something else. Hire our own tutor and live at the beach, if you want."

She looked up at him, seeing his eyes looking earnestly into hers. He would sacrifice his own ambitions in a moment if she asked. He was hers. He said so and she knew he meant it. She would have been overwhelmed by the changes within her if not for his steady support and understanding. She smiled at him, _I would like to go to your school and know your friends. _

He leaned forward and kissed her._ Only when you're ready. I was late back last year, and I can be late back this year. I think you need to practise being jostled by strangers and going into places reeking with magic. Only when you're comfortable. _

"Do you need to let them know?"

"Yes, and I also need to visit the bank in London, find out about my inheritance, decide where to live during holidays. I have at least one property, maybe more, and I haven't even seen them."

_You're an orphan, you said. It sounds like no-one cared about you very much._

"Many people cared, but not for me personally."

_Uncle Jacques. He stared at you, and exclaimed 'Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived.'_

"I was famous in England, because I survived a killing curse as a baby, and because I was supposed to grow up and then kill the one who did it." He continued without words, _Hardly anyone knows that I did kill him. I'm not proud of it, but it was necessary. They all think he just died, and with any luck, no-one will consider me important any more._

Justine said softly, "You hated being famous, didn't you?"

Harry grinned ruefully. "It had occasional benefits." He didn't think he would have had the fighting skills to win a Hecatema if not for his history or his special training. For a short time there, he'd had six against him at once.

Justine asked, "Tomorrow? We visit the Paris Aniragia, and I'll see how I go."

***x***

Molly Weasley scanned quickly down the Daily Prophet's Births, Death and Marriages, though she didn't expect to see anyone she knew whom she didn't already know about. Their world was a small one, only about six thousand wizards and witches in all of Britain. But she didn't expect to see the name of Severus Snape there, and exclaimed over it. She read aloud, "Severus Snape is pleased to announce his marriage to Camille Chazaud."

That was it, just the bare announcement. She laughed at the expressions on Ron and Ginny, and Arthur said amiably, "Maybe he'll be better-tempered now. No more Death Eater pretence, and now a wife."

Ron asked quietly, "You checked the death notices first, didn't you, Mum?"

"Yes, but I don't know why you think Harry's going to die. I admit he didn't look well, but there's just no reason."

She resumed reading over the notices, gave an unladylike guffaw, and then passed the paper over to Arthur, a look of merriment on her face.

Arthur asked, "Where?" She pointed and he read, _Jean and Antoinette Chazaud take pleasure in announcing that their oldest daughter, Justine Chazaud, has married Harry James Potter, only son of James and Lily Potter (both deceased.) _He repeated it out loud, to Ron's explosion of relieved laughter.

Ginny's reaction was different. She stood from her chair, her face furious and declared, "It's your fault. I was going to marry him one day, and you said I had to stay away from him." She flung her plate to the floor and stormed out of the room.

In a different household, Hannah Abbot said almost the same words to her parents, forgetting her feeling of relief when he stopped pursuing her. She hadn't been ready to share his difficult destiny and now she never would.

Her father was surprised, "I thought you didn't like him much."

"I did like him. He's goodlooking and witty and brainy and brave and I never even went to bed with him, even though they all said that all you have to do is ask."

Her mother said gently, "You know we think a girl should go to her husband, virgin."

"Why? It seems a stupid idea to me."

Her mother sighed, "Well, you're seventeen now. Of age. I guess you do what you want to do."

Hannah hesitated, biting her lip. She loved her parents, but at the moment, it almost seemed as if they'd conspired against her happiness. The next one to ask her...

Severus Snape regarded the completed beach home with pleasure. Camille said, "I'm glad you allowed me to do the furnishings. Your taste is a little austere for me."

Snape wrapped an arm around the woman and hugged her close. Camille had a delicate, fine featured face, and a rounded, comfortable body. She made him very happy.

She said, "You teach for one more year then, so we can keep an eye on your Harry and our Justine, then you give up teaching, maybe join me at my home."

Snape smiled, "I always loathed teaching."

"Are you going to sell this place?"

"We'll keep the top floor, the old girl can stay in her apartment, and the manager can rent out the other two apartments." He'd had to sell some investments to pay the extra amount agreed if his protégé won the Hecatema, but he'd kept Snape Manor, and he'd kept the safe-house, out of sentiment as well as a deep-seated sense of caution. He had no intention of ever telling Harry how much he'd paid for the information about the Hecatema or even that he'd paid at all.

Camille said, as if casually, "I didn't have children in my first marriage. How do you feel about children?"

Snape stared at her, openmouthed. He'd never considered it. He finally shook his head in wonderment, "A son and a daughter? I would like that."

Camille asked teasingly, "You won't be a mean father?"

"I hope not." It took a while to sink in, but that night, Snape said, wonderingly, "Children!" That was something he would not have had if he'd Bonded Harry. He said again, "Children!"

Camille laughed at him, "We can start tonight if you're sure."

"I am sure."

***x***

The Chazaud family gathered together for their mother's stories. Bertrand and Laurent professed to be far too old to listen to stories, and instead always pretended to be reading books or maybe doing homework. The little girls lapped them up - stories of ancient times, stories of legendary beasts, fables which illustrated the ancient customs of wizards.

Harry also lapped them up. This sort of evening storytelling was something he'd never had. He and Justine sat close together on a couch, Justine leaning contentedly against her Soul Mate, his arm around her. For Jean and Antoinette, their love and happiness was a constant reassurance. For the boys as well. It had been so horrible waiting, knowing that wizards fought to get to her.

Antoinette had just finished a story of Veela love and courtship, "...and so Sophia didn't die after all, and the German wizard finally understood that he was the most privileged man in all the world."

Chantelle remarked, "That's what Harry told me, that he's the luckiest man in all the world."

Bertrand said, "Is that because you won a Hecatema, Harry?"

Harry kissed Justine on the top of her head, and said, "It's because I won Justine. If she hadn't been Hecatema, I probably would never have met her."

Chantelle said, "I'm getting someone like you, Harry. Someone young. I don't want an old man."

Her mother said, "You won't get an old man. No-one over forty for a Hecatema."

"I don't want anyone over twenty!"

Antoinette didn't want to enter into a discussion as to why it was unlikely that she'd have someone under twenty, but she was saved by Harry, who asked, "Can we have another story please, Antoinette? Justine said you knew stories about Exopoli."

"Have you never heard these stories?"

"I was raised by Muggles, remember. They have different stories." And besides, Petunia wouldn't have told the unwanted Potter boy stories, though Harry supposed she might have done for Dudley.

Antoinette said, "There was once a tribe of Exopoli. A young girl Exopolis was called Vesper." She was speaking French, as Harry's Aniragi was still poor. His French, after a month of being so close to Justine, was fluent.

The little girls were sent to bed after that, but the older ones stayed up a while. A house-elf came in with refreshments, and a quiver ran through Justine. She'd seen them several times since the Bonding, but it was still startling. Just that their colours were so bright. She'd never realised what power was held in the tiny body of a house-elf. Yet they were magically bound to act as servants, and happy in their bondage. She reinforced her mental shields.

Harry was aware, and told her, _You do it easier all the time. _

Justine snuggled into his side, and replied, _Grandmother Madeline is an enormous help. I could do it with just you, but I'm sure it's quicker because she knows it from experience. _

Bertrand asked, "Harry, weren't you at the beach, close to our beach house?"

"That's right. You helped me one day. I wasn't very well then."

"Sick wizards never feel the Call. How is that that you felt the Call?"

Justine said, "It's obvious. He was destined to be my Soul Mate, so when I called, he came running."

Harry grinned, "Apparating. Severus was furious. Said it was not only too dangerous, but impossible. He said I took twenty years off his life, worrying." But no-one wanted to talk about the chase, and the talk instead switched to the planned trip to Paris. They were all going now, and the boys were to get their school books. Holidays were drawing to a close.

***x***

Ron called to his mother, "Harry wrote."

"Say much?"

"He says her name's Justine, and she's incredibly absolutely wonderful, that he's the happiest man in the world, and to please keep Hedwig for a little longer. He has to see if he's inherited a house. He says he'll see me at school even if not King's Cross."

"So he's going back."

"Apparently. He didn't say what the wife would be doing."

Hermione also received a letter, saying much the same, except that when they met Justine, she was not to think of hugging her in a welcome, and added, _Read up on Hecatemae. They're very sensitive at the beginning. _There was also a small photograph, two figures on stocky white ponies, galloping, long hair flying. Hermione had to squint before she was sure that the black-haired figure was Harry, and the one with pale hair had to be the new wife. A Hecatema. That hadn't been in the paper.

A few days later, Tomas and Madeline took their seats in the office of the headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor Minerva McGonnagal. Professor McGonnagal said, "I can understand that having Madeline here will be useful to Justine, but I don't understand where you got the idea we need a History teacher."

Tomas said, "Harry mentioned it. He said that Professor Binns should have retired roughly three hundred years ago."

Professor McGonnagal compressed her lips, "Just because Harry criticised one of our teachers, an eminently qualified teacher I might add, does not mean that I am about to dismiss him!"

Madeline apologised and explained that the young ones didn't even know that they were there, only that Harry had happened to mention that Professor Binns was renowned for putting students to sleep. She concluded, "So as Tomas is extremely knowledgeable in History, and has over fifty years experience teaching in several countries, we thought that he might be found suitable as a Professor."

Tomas said, "I would like something to keep me occupied here while my wife is teaching Justine. If I have a job, we'll stay the year as a minimum. If not, maybe only until Justine is fully competent with her new powers."

McGonnagal regarded the pair who looked to be in their forties, though both were over the hundred mark. Hecatemae and their Soul Mates lived long and happy lives. She suddenly remembered Harry saying that Ron had prophecied a fine old age for him, and smiled to herself. She'd always liked the boy, and she offered, "The Divination position is open. Do you have qualifications in that area?"

Tomas laughed, "Hardly. I happen to agree with Harry about Divination. He told me that prophecies are either nonsense, or invented for a purpose."

McGonnagal smiled and said fondly, "He always hated being the Chosen One."

"Severus told me he was the Child of Light, but he made sure that Harry wasn't close when he said it."

"You seem to have qualifications in several areas. If I provide you with room and board, plus pay you for some tutoring, wherever needed, but not Divination."

Tomas said, "That would be wonderful, thank you, Headmistress. Hecatemae need looking after at the beginning."

"Perhaps they'd like to return a week before school resumes. That way, Justine can get used to the atmosphere while it's quiet."

Justine and Harry returned ten days before school began, but not yet to school. Instead they went to the estate in Northumberland that belonged to Harry, finding an enormous expanse of unkempt grass within crumbling walls that encircled the whole acreage. There was the home, which, in contrast to the grounds, appeared in good order. Inside, there was not a speck of dust, and as they penetrated deeper, a house-elf made his appearance, bowing very low, and saying, "Welcome Mr. Potter. My family will like to serve the Potters again."

Harry said courteously, "I didn't know there were house-elves here. What is your name?"

"Bandehm, Sir. My vessda is Tigsni, and we have two young ones, not yet of an age to serve."

"The Gringotts goblins told me that this place was forgotten by wizards."

"The enchantments were supposed to protect the family from the Dark Lord. But your grandparents were killed, and your parents hid themselves at Godric's Hollow, until they, too, were killed."

"Was this place damaged at all?"

"Not by the Dark Lord. But wizards could not remember it for more than an hour."

Justine said, worried, "I hope we don't forget."

Harry assured her, "The goblins said that the enchantments would break when it was claimed by its rightful heir." He looked around at the gracious mansion, and said softly, "I think I remember you, home. I am the rightful heir."

He turned to Bandehm, and extended a hand, "It is a great pleasure that you're here and have looked after the place."

Bandehm bowed, "Thank you, Master."

"Call me Harry. My wife is Justine."

Bandejm beamed. House-elves had their own network, and he'd heard Dobby say how wonderful was Harry Potter.

They wandered and explored, Bandehm trotting along beside them. Portraits of Potters, and Harry stopped, staring at one of a vivacious redhead, Lily Evans. None of his father. They found a nursery and playroom, and Harry picked up a brightly coloured wooden horse. Tiggy?

He asked Justine, _Have this as our main home, plus a place on the coast? _

Justine smiled at him, "It will be a good place to bring up our dozen or so daughters."

Bandehm smiled in purest satisfaction, and asked, "When would you expect to take up permanent residence, please, Master?"

"We're to stay here for the next few days, but then we go to school for a year. Afterwards, I guess."

For a moment, the house-elf looked disappointed, then bowed again, "I will prepare the Master Bedroom."

"Thank you, Bandehm. We will also need a second bedroom prepared for visitors who'll be arriving shortly." Madeline was seldom far from Justine.

Harry and Justine continued their explorations, but Bandehm left them when they started to wander outside. House-elves never felt at home in the open. There was an orchard, the trees neglected, some dead, and some new ones growing from where fruit had fallen, and seeds sprouted on the ground.

Harry said, "Unless there's livestock, I think I'll just leave it the way it is until I can tend to it myself."

"No staff?"

_Maybe when we live here. _

Justine said, "We could have horses. It appears to be a big place."

Harry pulled her close, "You can have whatever you want."

Justine smiled, _I want for us to find a shed, then you make it cosy, and we make love. _

Harry grinned,_ A haystack, maybe? _

Justine exclaimed, "You've got to be joking! Hay is dreadful to lie on."

_I always thought it sounded so cosy! _

Justine said afterwards,_ I thought of starting a child straightaway, but Grandmother Madeline said we have a long life, and it's better to wait a few years. _

Harry felt a concern._ What if our child is Hecatema? It would be so terribly, terribly hard to watch and wait. _

Justine kissed him._ Have faith. The best and kindest and wisest wizard within fifty miles. Only the best for a Hecatema. _

"Is that what you were told?"

"Maybe they didn't tell me everything. But I am so happy now. It is good to be Hecatema."

But Harry remembered the shouting, fighting wizards all trying to get to her at once. He didn't deliberately show her his worry, but Justine smiled at him, and said, "But the best came to me, and all those others did not. It is _good_ to be Hecatema."

***x***

King's Cross Station, the first of September. Harry was five foot ten, tanned, fit and healthy. He wore his Gryffindor robes. Next to him stood Justine, also wearing Gryffindor robes. Even in the clumsy robes, her grace and beauty made her stand out, but it was Harry who suddenly found himself with an armful of Hermione, quickly after by Ron and Neville, neither of them satisfied with a handshake, both of them pulling him close and patting his back.

Harry finally extracted himself, laughing, and introduced Justine.

"Your wife?"

Harry replied easily, "My wife."

Hermione smiled at the girl graciously, and said, "Harry will make you happy. He's a sweet boy."

Justine leaned closer into her husband, and said, "He's a wonderful man."

Ron asked, "So how did it happen, and how is it that you're allowed to go to school and be married."

Hermione said, "There are special laws all about Hecatemae."

"We have a small set of rooms to ourselves, and because I have an apparation license, so does she. In some ways, we are treated as the same person." He gave Justine a kiss on the hair, a bare touch.

Ron said to Hermione, "How did you know she was Hecatema? I didn't see it in the paper."

Hermione smirked mysteriously, "The clues were there." She kissed Harry, and whispered, "Congratulations. It's so what you needed."

"Did you hear that Severus is also married?"

"Yes, that was unexpected."

"I've never known him so happy. He still makes sarcastic remarks, but now they're witty, rather than merely out of ill temper. And he adores Camille."

"Related to you, Justine?"

"Camille is my aunt."

There was a piercing train whistle, and Hermione hurried them to board the train. Harry remarked, "I see you're Head Prefect."

"Mum and Dad are thrilled."

"Who's the other?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Harry nodded, "He seemed such a prat in earlier years, but he grew up."

Ron said mockingly, "Are you implying I haven't?"

Harry grinned, "Don't you confiscate illegal but interesting toys in order to play with them yourself? You'll always be popular, Ron, but they look for different qualities in a prefect."

Lavender and Parvati were making a fuss of him then, while Ron and Hermione left for the Prefects' Carriage. Parvati said to Justine, apparently casually, "I hope he's faithful. Most of us he plays with once or twice, and goes on to the next."

Justine smiled with perfect confidence, "I don't think he'll ever be tempted by any other woman again."

Lavender's comment was distinctly spiteful, "Maybe a boy then. He liked Trevor."

Justine asked gently, "Are you going to frankly insult him next? You know that Hecatemae do terrible things to people who insult or threaten their mate. And they're not punished, the same as Veela. It's recognised that the protective instinct cannot be controlled."

Harry laughed as Lavender and Parvati quickly decided that they had business elsewhere. _Well done. _

Justine smiled at him, _Any more enemies I should warn? _

"One Professor Landen, maybe." He held out his arm, _Come and sit beside me. We'll face our next visitors together. _

Justine turned to him, twining her fingers in his hair.

When Neville, Dean and Seamus looked in, they were obviously in no mood for visitors. Neville whispered, "At least they're still fully dressed!"

"Lavender said she was Hecatema."

Word quickly spread. The famous Harry Potter, whose reason for fame had vanished. But now there was a new Seventh Year, who was one of the half mythical Hecatemae. "Best not threaten him, ever!"

"Or insult her. The Soul Mate can be just as protective."

Draco turned up and said severely, "No sex in the carriages, you two."

Harry laughed and protested, "We were only kissing a little!"

"The girls will be disappointed." He smiled at Harry, and said, "I'm glad you're happy. I didn't expect you back."

"When did I say I wasn't coming back?"

Draco shrugged, "Just a feeling." He held out a hand to Justine, "Welcome to Hogwarts. Try and keep him in line. He doesn't take much notice of rules sometimes."

The start of year feast. For the first time, the new First Years were not craning their heads in an attempt to see the famous Harry Potter, the one with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, the one who was destined to defeat the most evil Dark Lord in generations, the Monster so powerful and wicked that none dared to speak his name. The boy called Harry Potter was just ordinary now, his only remaining claim to fame was that he'd won a Hecatema.

Some were disappointed that the wonderful Albus Dumbledore was no longer headmaster, just a severe sounding headmistress, who introduced herself for the benefit of the First Years, confirmed that she was Headmistress, and gave a short list of prohibitions in a matter-of-fact voice.

"There are several changes. First, Professor Binns has announced his retirement. He is to be replaced by Professor Tomas Melenchon, who is very highly qualified. Professor Melenchon has also agreed to take my place as head of Gryffindor House, so Gryffindors take any concerns to him. Next, as Professor Kelly is to take over my subject of Transfiguration, the subjects he taught are mostly to be taken by Professor Madeline Portat. The elective of Divination is to be phased out, to be replaced by the language of Aniragi. Lastly, although we will continue the traditional Sorting into Houses, the foolish past rivalry is to cease. I would like to see far more interaction between students of different Houses."

Harry remarked to Justine when she sat, "Each change is an improvement. I think Minerva will do a far better job than Dumbledore ever did."

A second year beside him, said generally, "I've scarcely seen Professor Kelly. What subjects does he teach?"

Harry answered, "He has a large family I believe, Billy, and doesn't live in. He teaches several short-term subjects, mostly optional, like First Aid, Unusual Magical Phenomena, and, I think, Sex Education."

Justine asked sweetly, "Sex Education? Did you ever take that, Harry?"

Harry grinned at her, _Do I need to? _

Billy asked, "When is that offered, Harry?"

Harry answered vaguely, "Second or Third Year."

"So you didn't take it?"

Hermione said, "He was like Ron, I think. Too embarrassed. They preferred extra flying lessons."

Harry said, "Well, I wasn't frightened of my broomstick, while I was terrified of girls. So I steered clear."

Justine asked, amused, "You were terrified of girls?"

"Terrified. I used to admire one or two now and then, but from a very respectful distance."

Billy laughed, "Father said that you're very brave and a phenomenal fighter, and you were terrified of girls!"

"Who's your father, Billy?"

"Auror Stewart Rankin."

"Simon must be your brother then."

Billy grinned, "He boasts of helping the great Harry Potter in Arithmancy."

Harry laughed, "I had a lot of people help me in Arithmancy."

"Dad says you tried him when you were in Germany, but he had to refer you to Auror Shacklebolt."

"Kingsley was good."

"Dad says he's glad it wasn't him got taken by Yusdu. He might never have seen us again, and worse, wouldn't have cared."

Justine asked, "Harry?"

"Bijn Yusdu. Do you know about them?"

"A little. Mother called them predators."

The feast and the talk went on. Harry and Justine were included in the gathering in the Gryffindor Common Room, during which time Justine learned more about Harry's past that she hadn't known, but then they retired to their own rooms, in a row of six apartments for married teachers, though only one other occupied. Snape and his bride were in his own spacious quarters, modified for Camille to share.

Justine that night, whispered, "I like it here. And I've changed my mind about waiting." She was radiating joy and expectation, and Harry totally forgot his misgivings about having children who might be Hecatema. Witches were very good at conceiving when they wanted. In the morning when Harry woke, he could still feel Justine's joy. She was Hecatema, she had the best and kindest and wisest man in all the world, and in nine months time, she would bear his child.

***x***

The first day of lessons, and Harry returned to their set of rooms looking rueful. "Sorry, love. I have a detention."

Justine asked, "What's a detention?"

Harry tended to forget that Justine didn't know about school. "It's a punishment for transgressions such as insolence, not doing homework, things like that."

"So what did you do?"

_I didn't mean to... _

"What did you do?"

Harry said uncomfortably, "Someone made me cross, and there was a little thunder, and the desks started shaking."

_It was about me, wasn't it? _

_Not really. About winning a Hecatema._

Justine decided she didn't want to know, and asked, "So what will you have to do?"

"Probably only write lines. Sometimes they think of jobs you have to do, usually unpleasant. I used to be always in detention when I was younger."

Justine laughed, "We could always go back to the option of a tutor by the sea."

But Professor McMillan only rebuked him mildly, assured him that he quite understood his annoyance, and asked what he suggested as a major Construction project for the year.

Professor Sprout welcomed them both to her Decorative Gardening Class the next day. There were also Vince and Greg, plus Rose Trindall and Patty Lancock, of Ravenclaw, who explained that if Harry Potter could elect to do subjects like gardening and Construction just because he liked them, then so could they.

Six students, and their teacher looked around in satisfaction. With this help, she could do wonders with the decorative gardens. There were no sixth year students, and she didn't want to wind up like Hagrid, with no-one at all electing to take his subject in the senior years. Not that he seemed to be worried. Hagrid was always busy, and as long as someone called him Professor now and then, perfectly content with his life.

She took the opportunity to speak to Justine quite early, when Harry was off with Greg and Vince, helping with the spell that turned over and broke up the soil. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Justine."

"Thank you, Professor Sprout."

"I would not have thought you would need help with any magical spell."

"I don't really. It just came. But knowledge of design doesn't just come, and neither does knowledge of suitable plants."

Professor Sprout smiled, "And you like to be close to Harry."

Justine looked at him, and said softly, "They promised me the best and kindest and wisest wizard within fifty miles, and Harry is the one who came."

"He looks very happy."

"He says he could not have imagined such happiness."

School continued to go well. Professor Kent was disappointed that Justine wasn't there to learn Aniragi with Harry, and said, "They say Hecatema, but she looks Veela to me."

"Not Veela. She's the sweetest tempered girl I've ever met."

Hermione said, "Harry! _I'm_ sweet-tempered!"

Harry ducked, and threw an arm up defensively, saying very fast, "Yes, Hermione. You're very sweet-tempered."

Hermione mock-cuffed him, and Kent said wistfully, "I've wanted a Hecatema since I was sixteen, but I'm pleased you found one. You deserved it for being willing to try. It wasn't your fault you never defeated Voldemort."

"Thank you, Sir."

Hermione smiled at Harry. Not many boys would have avoided taking credit for what he'd done, but she was sure he was wise. Having people know that he could kill with just his mind, would make him into something frightening. It was better this way.

Even Landen congratulated Harry on his lovely bride, and then said that he'd done well to get his Arithmancy OWL. He no longer seemed to hold a grudge against him, instead treating him exactly as he treated the other seventh years in the class. Quite a large class, Hermione, several Ravenclaws, and three Slytherins, including Draco.

There were two more instances in the first weeks of Harry's temper apparently being tried too far, with some resultant thunder and shaking of desks. Harry was too happy these days to truly lose his temper, but the demonstration was effective. No-one spoke about Hecatema chases if Harry was close.

When Justine lost her temper with Lavender, it was a little more serious. But Harry said he was sure that Lavender wanted to apologise, and the moment that Justine allowed her use again of her tongue, did so.

Justine nodded severely, "_Never_ do it again. Harry is mine, and I will not tolerate either spiteful criticism or patting hands on his bottom."

Harry said to her, _The patting hand didn't hurt._

Justine turned her glare to him, but it no longer held any anger, "And if I catch you flirting with anyone but me, you'll be sorry."

Harry said humbly, "Yes, Justine."

Some of the girls giggled, and when Justine looked at them, Parvati said quickly, "No patting hands, I promise. And he wasn't flirting _really."_

Lavender said, "Just that we couldn't help it. He's better looking now than he's ever been."

"He used to be a weed, you know."

"He's not now, he's _gorgeous!"_

Lavender asked, "Please Justine, can you release me?"

Justine nodded casually, and Lavender was free from the remaining paralysis. They'd known in theory that Hecatema could work magic without a wand, but this was the first time they'd seen it. Justine was obviously someone to be respected.

Snape looked up when he heard the knock. He could always tell when it was Harry. They'd been back at school three weeks. Harry entered at his word, and Snape asked, "How's your health?"

Harry laughed, "You only ask out of habit. It's perfectly obvious I'm totally healthy."

"Just that Madam Pomfrey mentioned you'd visited her. She said you were not quite five foot eleven now."

"I'm still trying for six foot. I might make it. After all, I'm still only seventeen."

"So why did you go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"I wanted to know whether she knew the spells for painless childbirth. Justine, at the end of May."

Snape grinned with utmost pride, "And Camille, probably a couple of weeks earlier."

Harry laughed in pleasure, "I knew it! I think it's wonderful, Severus. And I think you'll make an excellent father."

"Why should you think that? I'm horrible sometimes to the students."

"A child of your own will be different. And anyway, the way you looked after me... You were even there and helping when I was ready to die."

Snape looked away, uncomfortable, and Harry asked slowly, "But was it to help me die? That's what I thought at the time."

Snape admitted, "I care very much for you. I was going to love you, to Bond you, and _make _you live."

"Ahhhh..."

After a short silence, Harry suggested, "We could go the Hogsmeade pub if you like. I think we have something to celebrate. After all, wives and babies are the best things in the world, and we came very close to merely second best."

Snape asked, "Second-best? I thought you'd be furious."

"I care very much for you, Severus. I could have been happy, even if you didn't allow me my preferred position."

Snape said decisively, "Hogsmeade pub."

All the same, Harry didn't stay long. Justine had Madeline, but she still didn't like her Soul Mate being away from her for very long.

***x***


	20. Chapter 20

_**Note**__**: Unvoiced dialogue is that written in italics.**_

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling. The Hecatema concept belongs to the Fanfiction author, pen-name Beren._

_**Chapter 20:**_

Minerva McGonnagal said to Tomas, "So you, Harry, Madeline and Justine are to be away for a week."

"That's right. 17th October. There are two new Hecatemae, Justine, and Fiona Craig, who now lives in London. The Hecatema Association likes to welcome new Hecatemae within a year of their Bonding. The Bond-mates are also wanted, though there will be days when we won't be attending."

"A whole week? What about Harry's studies, and what about your duties?"

"Harry and Justine will have no trouble catching up, and I'll give my students a reading list and assignments to do in class. Both Laurence and Susan have volunteered to supervise, though I have every confidence that the senior students can do perfectly well without supervision."

"And is this to be a regular thing?"

"They do not have regular meetings. Only when a new Hecatema comes along, and that is not often."

Minerva asked curiously, "How many are there altogether?"

"Twenty-six in Europe and Britain, none in America, and as far as we know, none anywhere else in the world."

"I'm surprised there are even that many."

Minerva nodded abruptly, "Go, of course. I daresay there's even a law somewhere to say I have to let you go."

Tomas smiled, "Thank you, Minerva."

Minerva returned his smile, "It's a privilege to have you and Madeline teaching here, and a pleasure to see Harry's happiness. He was not always treated fairly."

"I have a great regard for Harry. From what I've learned, I think it a miracle he was not damaged - from being abused as a child, and then being told he had to defeat a fearsome and powerful wizard."

Minerva said defensively, "It was Prophecy. It would not have been honest to keep it from him."

Tomas smiled mockingly, "And the terrible You-Know-Who just died. Very funny, when you think of it."

Minerva said dryly, "Very funny. So funny it killed poor Albus."

***x***

Sirius didn't even wait for Harry to introduce the others, but gripped him by the shoulders, actually looking up to him. "Look at you! As tall as James, and with the loveliest bride in all of Britain. And you defeated Voldemort! I knew you would. It was the only reason I could think of that you didn't come to me for a home when you needed one. I can guess why Fudge wants it kept secret. He never did like anyone beside himself being seen to have any power!"

Harry protested, "Sirius, I only actually saw Voldemort once after the Triwizard Tournament."

Sirius frowned at him, almost resentfully, "Are you sure?"

"I haven't even been to see the tomb and effigy, though I understand he's quite the tourist attraction."

Tomas said smoothly, "Maybe his resurrected body wasn't strong enough. That he succeeded in making himself any kind of a body is amazing."

"So you're saying he just declined and died."

Harry shrugged and started to introduce Justine, then the others.

He wasn't at all sure that he liked Sirius Black, especially when Sirius looked at Justine with an obvious admiration and commenced to flirt. On the other hand, the home at Grimauld Place was clean and comfortable, the grumbling house-elf was gone, the shrieking portrait was gone, and then Sirius's girlfriend arrived, and Sirius stopped looking at Justine any more than anyone else.

Harry was surprised that Sirius had stayed, considering his avowed hatred for the place, but at dinner, a very good meal was served, with the help of a servant, crockery and cutlery showed the Black family crest, and the talk was easy. He guessed that it might be Mary who'd stabilised the rash and bitter man he'd known. Mary had a plain face, but bright blue, twinkling eyes that reminded Harry of Dumbledore.

The only dissension came during dessert, when Sirius remarked, "I was stunned when I heard that Snape was married. Why anyone would marry that greasy git, I'll never know."

Harry said evenly, "I am very close to Severus. For a long time, he was the only adult in my life I felt I could fully trust."

Sirius looked like he'd been slapped in the face, and Madeline said kindly, "People change. And some of us wear masks. Sometimes it's necessary to reassess childhood hatreds."

Sirius was very quiet after that, and Mary looked at Harry crossly and avoided speaking to him.

Later, in bed, Justine said, "You were hard on him, Harry. He loves you. It's not his fault he was so badly damaged by Azkaban."

"He loves me?"

"Very much, though possibly more as a symbol than because he knows you."

"I always thought it was only because I represented my father to him. They were great friends when they were young."

"There is a lot in that. But be kind."

"I didn't want to stay here, but his invitation was too pressing to decline."

"He is an impetuous man, but he's intelligent. He lost too much."

"It was Azkaban. I would like to demolish the place and eradicate the Dementors."

"Dementors? I don't know the word."

Harry explained, and Justine nodded, "Deruchnia we call them. They are not tolerated in France."

"They use them to guard the prison. They say they're needed for powerful wizard prisoners." Harry stopped talking aloud as he continued, _Y__et as far as I know, I'm the only ordinary wizard who could escape even a Muggle prison without a wand. The extreme cruelty is not needed. _His caution when speaking of his greater power than normal was becoming habitual. You never knew who was listening.

Justine asked cautiously, _How cruel?_

Harry hesitated, and Justine said, "Do not try and protect me, Harry. I am your equal."

Harry said, "I know little. I saw Sirius when he was half starved, not long after he escaped. And I know how Dementors make you feel."

Justine said, "I can see the instability, almost madness, left in Sirius. The man has suffered terribly."

Harry sighed, "I was unkind. I'll apologise tomorrow. Just that Severus was there when I needed someone to help, and I came to know him very well. He was so good to me, Justine."

"You were dying, and he found a Hecatema for you."

"He was sure that a new bond would instantly cure me. I wasn't thinking of that. Just that he took me to a place close enough, and then you were Calling me. If I'd thought... I wasn't unhappy to die, and I was risking you. What if it hadn't cured me?"

"If you hadn't been perfect for me, you would not have felt the Call. That's what mother said. Have faith in the Hecatema magic. It will find you the best and wisest and kindest."

Harry hugged her close, and asked, _Not the best looking?_

Justine pulled away, and studied his face, _Adequate! _

Harry chuckled, and his hand commenced to roam. Adequate. He was quite happy to be adequate.

The week was to be a mixture of business and simple pleasure, especially for the young ones, Fiona and Justine. The next youngest was Berthe, who was French, and in her late twenties, then Lindria Cox, a little older. But then there was Jazseera Hamoud, age 78, and all the others were even older, though few looked particularly old. It would be one of the hardest things for the young ones to comprehend, just how long they could expect to live.

The four youngest women, with their Bond-mates, formed a group, and spent most of the first two days being entertained and getting to know each other. For Harry, meeting Fiona felt a little awkward, but Linley was as easy to get on with as Vayden, and Fiona had apparently totally forgotten that she'd ever been interested in Harry Potter. She and Justine agreed, they had the best in the world, though they looked at different men when they said it, and Justine said, "Mama told me that I could have faith in the Hecatema magic, and I did. I'm so, so happy."

Fiona looked at her own man, "Me, too. I was nervous, but it didn't take long, and even if it was a shock, afterwards, I was happy. Linley and I... We belong together." And she whispered, "My first baby will be born in May."

Justine felt brimming with joy, "Me, too."

Wednesday was Hecatemae only. Their Bond-mates entertained each other, though both Vayden and Harry started to feel increasingly uneasy. Harry suddenly announced, "I'm going to her."

Linley also stood up. Someone was upsetting his Fiona. Tomas put a restraining hand on Harry's arm, "It's Hecatema business. It is not for us."

Another wizard said, "There are things that every new Hecatema is told. Things that the Council of Elders feel are important."

Harry said, "She's distressed. I'm going to her."

Wesley, Bond-mate to Lindria, protested, "It's the Council of Elders!"

Linley strode away and threw over his shoulder, "_Fuck_ the Council of Elders!"

Harry followed him. No-one was going to upset his Justine.

One of the Hecatemae stood at the door, with the intention of dissuading the Bond-mates from interrupting, but when she saw the determination and anger radiating from both of them, and the sheer golden glow of power from Harry, she stepped back. It was always hard to tell the young ones what they needed to know, and having a fight with their Bond-mates certainly wouldn't help. The Senior of the Elders, Trieneke Portat, a distant relative of Madeline and Justine, was presiding, and now said, "A break. Fiona and Justine, do not leave. You need to know these things."

Harry threw her a brief glare, but his arms were full of Justine, who was sobbing. Linley was likewise occupied.

A half hour later, Trieneke regarded the assembly, and stated, "We will go on." Harry sat close to Justine, his arm around her. Linley and Fiona were the same.

Harry interrupted coldly, "There will be no more mention of terminating the pregnancies. We will listen to your opinion about whether to have more children, but these ones will live."

Trieneke nodded, and said, "Maria, would you tell the story of yourself and your cousins."

A dignified woman came to the front of the assembly. "My name is Maria Knudson. I am from Norway. It was over seventy years ago now. I was not told what was happening, what I was. Just that a few weeks after I was sixteen, I found myself locked in a small room, without my wand. I couldn't see out and I couldn't hear anything. There were no explanations and I didn't know why I was suddenly a prisoner. There was water, but no provisions. Naturally, I was terrified. But after a while, it seemed that it was right, and I stopped being hungry. Three days later, a hole suddenly appeared in the wall, and there was a big wizard. Afterwards, of course, I was happy. It's nearly always all right in the end for the girl, and I am very happy with my Soul Mate. But I chose not to have children. You see, I found out later that eight wizards had died in the chase, three were permanently crippled, including my father. There were other injuries, but they were curable. I had two cousins, sisters. They didn't know they were Hecatemae as well, and I still don't know whether the younger was. I didn't know until years later how the older one died. It seemed that four wizards got to her at once, fighting each other to be first. She was Bonded by one of them as he bled to death from his injuries. She died with him dead on top of her. The younger sister ran away, and was not found until just before her sixteenth birthday. She'd killed herself rather than be raped by a stranger. I never had children. It is the unanimous opinion of the Hecatema Council that the Hecatema strain should be allowed to die out."

Other women spoke. The young ones listened, saddened, but no longer as distressed. They were in the arms of their Soul Mates.

A woman so old she actually looked old, Natalina Randazzo, age 235, Italian. "My ordeal was short. Milo was well known to me, and I was not as afraid as I would have been of a stranger. We had three children, all of whom had children also. I have many descendants. Some of you here are my descendants, and can blame your ordeal directly on me. The Hecatema strain is recessive, and probably thousands more bear the strain in its recessive form. When two of them mate, some of their children are Hecatemae. I was wrong having children. I agree that no Hecatema should have children."

Vivienne Craig: "My grandmother's maiden name was Randazzo. I was told it was natural, but I will never forget my terror. I was never told if anyone died chasing after me. I had no children."

Trieneke summed up, "Each of us have suffered rape by a berserk wizard, yet we were Bonded, and then it seemed to each of us that it was the only man possible. We know they were driven, that it was not their fault, but natural or not, it is an awful thing."

Justine thought to Harry, _You must have been the most gentle one in history._

Harry answered a little sadly, _I once said I could never rape. But when I was in that position, I did rape._

_Were there wizards hurt? _

_I saw several injuries, but was sane enough not to inflict any. No-one has mentioned any deaths to me, and I didn't ask._

Trieneke said, "Our next speaker is Erika Godreche."

A vividly goodlooking woman with long glossy black hair came to the front.

Justine communicated, _She's ninety-nine. I still find it hard to credit! _

Erika said, "My grandson is head of the Spanish Department of Muggle Affairs. His chief worry is that a Hecatema may start Calling in the middle of a heavily populated Muggle area. The two Hecatema chases this past year were remarkably incident-free, and only three Muggles in France saw anything requiring their memories to be modified. But the Muggle population is spreading and spreading, and there are few habitable areas free of them. A young woman does not always take the information easily, and may flee the approaching nightmare. Romain says there is talk of ensuring that a girl, once she knows, has no chance to flee. In other words, the next girl may find herself a prisoner for what she is. I can understand his reasoning. The world of wizards must not come to the awareness of the Muggle world. It is not mentioned in general history, but our own Hecatema history states that the last Holocaust was triggered by a Hecatema chase in the middle of Madrid. I agree that it is best that none of us have children. I had just one son, who had one son, Romain. Romain says that he will not marry and have children, in case he passes on the strain. He has made this sacrifice for our world. It is up to us to also make the sacrifice. Adopt, if you want the joy of a child, but each one of us lives with the joy of a loving Bond. Our newest members should reflect on that."

Harry thought bitterly, _Sacrifice!_ Almost from birth, he'd been expected to sacrifice himself for his world.

Justine said aloud, "I will not sacrifice my little boys."

Harry turned to her, beaming, _Twin boys?_

Justine nodded, smiling, "Twin boys."

Harry laughed and stood up, "I think we should go and celebrate. Fiona? Linley?"

The others followed him out, Fiona crying a little, but Linley had his arm around her.

Linley turned at the last, and said coolly, "Twenty-six Hecatemae, all of them with immense power. Twenty-six Bond-mates, all of them with either more power than average or more cunning. It seems to me that the Hecatema Association could do a lot of good in our world if they chose, far more than abstaining from passing on the Hecatema strain."

It was only midmorning. Harry and Linley took their wives to a restaurant for lunch, and then shopping. Children were not discussed. Justine and Fiona threw off their anxieties, and spent their husbands' money with abandon. They were sixteen, they were pretty, and they were interested in fashion, especially Muggle clothing. Robes designed for witches tended to be traditional and conservative. There was no mention of returning to the luxury hotel which was the venue for the Hecatema Proceedings.

By mid afternoon, the men sat watching, disgruntled, as the girls happily entered yet another dress shop. Linley said, "At least they're not brooding about this morning."

"They're right, of course. Hecatemae are a risk. It's risky for the girls, and it could be a major disaster when Muggles see what they shouldn't."

Linley nodded, "But I'm glad we're to have one child."

Harry's mood immediately lifted, "Me, too. Twin boys. I really wanted a large family. When I was little, I used to imagine lots of brothers and sisters. It sounded to me such bliss. Preferably lots of aunts and uncles and cousins, grandparents, parents, of course."

"Everyone knows your parents died, but what about the rest of your family?"

"My mother was Muggle-born, her parents killed by Voldemort when she was just a child. It was one of his obsessions, that no Muggle should know about magic. Then my Potter grandparents, lastly my parents. As far as I know, I have no blood relatives aside from a Muggle aunt and cousin, who loathe me."

"And your mother's real sire, very likely."

"Very likely."

"The Pure-blood families loathe the ones who leave cuckoos in Muggle nests, but there are an awful lot of Muggle-born."

"Do you think some wizards leave them deliberately?"

"On his death bed, one _Calvin McKenzie_ boasted he left seventy-three children, only two of whom he had to raise. It was rumoured his wife was so furious she set his genitals on fire, but that might only have been a story. Anyway, the younger generation McKenzies have tended to look for their brides in countries a long way from Britain."

There was silence then for a long time, until finally Linley spoke. "The Hecatema Association has immense power if they choose to exercise it."

"Being seen to have more power than average can be dangerous."

"Fiona told me that you have almost as much power as she does."

Harry gave him an uneasy look, and Linley said, "I have not told anyone. It's as you say, power arouses jealousy."

The girls reappeared, large bundles under their arms, which they each sent to their homes. Justine said casually, "Diagon Alley next. We've decided that Harry's dress robes are far too plain." Linley grinned as Harry groaned.

Madeline and Tomas found him standing on a raised stand in the clothiers, looking thoroughly uncomfortable, in pinned up robes. The clothier was in deep discussion with Justine and Fiona about exactly what embroidered design, and what colour would look best on the emerald green robes.

Tomas laughed, and Madeline said, "Tomorrow, we have scheduled a bus tour of Muggle London, followed by a business meeting, men and women, as always, which may bore you. You can come or not, as you choose."

Justine said, "Plain silver thread or the iridescent blue, which do you think?"

Madeline assessed carefully, and finally said, "I think the blue is too showy. What I would suggest is navy, maybe including small sewn-on pieces of jet, small diamonds if you like."

Harry said, astounded, "Jewellery?"

"Of course. It's entirely appropriate. Many important wizards wear jewellery as part of the design of their dress robes."

Harry appealed, "Justine?"

Justine giggled, "It sounds perfect," and Harry raised his eyes skyward, half resigned on his own behalf, and half delighting in the delight of his Bond-mate.

There was more discussion of the problems of wizard society that evening after dinner, especially 'Muggle-born' children. Mary wasn't there, and Madeline and Justine were having a private discussion in another room.

Sirius took it for granted, and remarked, "When I was fifteen, my father taught me some spells - the Obliviate, and the anti-conception spell, and told me firmly that I was _never_ to leave any half-blood bastards. He took it for granted that I'd use Muggle women."

Harry asked coolly, "Did you?"

Sirius admitted, "I probably would have if it wasn't for James. He was keen on a Mudblood, you see, met her parents, and thought it disgusting that her mother had been raped."

Harry asked, "Any idea who?"

"No idea, though you could look for a redhead. Neither of her parents were redheads."

Harry shook his head, and said, "Probably better not to speculate." What if he'd married Ginny? What if Ginny was related to him? It really was a serious problem.

Sirius said, "You know that Albus Dumbledore was sometimes referred to as a _Muggle-loving fool? _Father once told me that it was originally because he was a Muggle-_lusting_ fool. I didn't believe a word of it. Albus wouldn't do anything like that."

Harry said, "He used Mind-magic, and he had the appearance of a wise old man. It does not make him a good man. I consider him perfectly capable of pleasing himself like that."

Sirius said sceptically, "How would you know? And anyway, it's quite impractical."

Harry stood, put his hands across his opposite arms, and said, "He did it like this. It's why he always wore flowing sleeves. He wore his wand on his right wrist, as I do. I could do it now, and you would find yourself believing me, and yet not knowing why. If I can, he could."

Sirius was quiet, staring at him as if he hadn't known him before.

Tomas said, "Madeline always said he was untrustworthy."

Harry asked, "Then why was he allowed to achieve such power? The Hecatemae knew, and never intervened."

"We always thought it best that the Hecatemae stay strictly out of politics."

Harry sat, "Yes..." Wise, maybe. He'd liked it when he'd heard that Hecatemae were invariably peaceful. But there were many things wrong with the wizarding world. It was barbaric, compared to the Muggle world. He had a vivid memory of Hermione saying about a game of wizard chess, _But that's barbaric!_ Wizard chess might be harmless enough, but raping Muggle women and taking it for granted! Sirius's father teaching him the Obliviate Spell as a matter of course.

He looked at Sirius. He'd been free for years now, but he was still too thin, and still had those bitter lines on his face. Dementors, they drove people crazy. Dementors were supposed to be impossible to kill, but he bet a Hecatema could kill a Dementor. He thought he could even do it himself, these days. He was far more powerful now than he'd been the last time he'd faced one. What Linley had said - _The Hecatema Association has immense power if they choose to exercise it. _

A month later, the Hecatemae Association had another meeting, in Paris, and in December, they met again, at Harry and Justine's place.

***x***


	21. Chapter 21

_Terms used__: Aniragia, a wizarding area such as Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade._

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 21:**_

January, and Snape's eyebrows rose at the full page paid advertisement in the Daily Prophet. The League of Mothers, which he'd never heard of. There was a brief explanation, that the 'mothers' were from many countries in Europe. They said that they had no intention of directly entering politics, but had influence. And there was the statement, _In some respects, wizards are barbaric. Muggles, in comparison, are civilised. It is time that we had a hard look at ourselves, and change those things that need to be changed. _

It started with the demand that Azkaban be closed, the Dementors dismissed, and that a humane prison be prepared for those few who deserved incarceration. There was a complaint that the outcomes of trials were too often predetermined. And then there was the part that made the men and boys look apprehensive - where it said plainly that Muggle-born children didn't just happen, but were the result of a wizard having sex with a Muggle woman, usually rape rather than seduction, and followed by the Obliviatus Charm.

Snape shook his head, and said to Tomas, who sat beside him, "They don't seem to realise that we only keep Dementors under control because they're allowed to feed from the criminals."

Tomas said, "The Muggle-born students are going to be horrified. I doubt if many of them realise."

At another breakfast table, Hermione compressed her lips and said nothing. It was a conclusion she'd come to long ago. A second-year, on the other hand, looked at it without comprehension for a bit, and then ran out of the room, sobbing. Hermione said quietly, "It's Cecily Spencer, Muggle-born. No reason she would ever have realised." She nodded in approval as a girlfriend hurried after the girl. There were more distressed students as realization dawned.

Harry asked, "These people, Hermione, this League of Mothers - did they do the wrong thing bringing it into the open?"

"No, they did the right thing. No problem is ever solved by sweeping it under the carpet."

Justine breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been very doubtful about bringing that into the open.

Harry said musingly, "You know how Dumbledore used to say that he felt like a grandfather to me. I hear that he was a prime culprit when he was younger. It's quite possible that he _was_ my grandfather."

Hermione turned on him in shock, "That's a horrible thing to say!"

Harry regarded her, a crooked smile on his face, "Didn't I tell you he gained his reputation for wisdom and benevolence only because he used to use Mind-Magic? There is no need to revere his memory, Hermione."

"He cared about you!"

"He was going to use me as his weapon, and if I became too big for my boots afterwards, he planned to take steps to limit my power, maybe by something like Binding Bracelets, maybe by having me accused of a crime. I could have wound up in Azkaban myself if I'd crossed him too directly. It's a very good thing for me that he died."

Ron laughed, "No wonder you put on that humble act with him, mate."

Hermione said decisively, "You told me your mother was a redhead. It doesn't sound like Dumbledore."

Harry shrugged, "I've only known him with white hair. He could have been." Hermione narrowed her eyes speculatively, and Harry grinned. By the end of the day, she'd probably be able to tell him.

Hermione shrugged and looked back at her paper. "They say that prisons such as Azkaban are more criminal than the ones they house."

"Many prisoners die within months. Remember second year? They put Hagrid in there as a _precaution!_ And Dumbledore allowed it!"

Hermione said quietly, "I guess I tried not to judge. Everything was so different in this world, and I tried not to judge."

"The ones of us who know both worlds - maybe we're the best ones to judge."

Justine asked, "Hermione, if one set out to destroy this prison, this Azkaban, how would you suggest we treat the inmates?"

Hermione looked at her very thoughtfully, and then at Harry, and said, "I might give that some thought. May I come to your apartment after dinner?"

Ron, Neville and Hermione were together when they visited the small sitting room. Justine presented them with coffee and three varieties of biscuits. One of the subjects she'd elected was Household Management.

Harry and Justine were forbidden to disclose the identity of the League of Mothers, but nevertheless, the others apparently suspected. They refrained from asking questions, and Neville said, "You know - the prisoners. I don't think you could just free them. They'll be starved, they'll feel the cold, and some might not be rational. Many would need hospitalisation probably, even aside from the fact that some might be dangerous."

Justine said, "I wonder how many prisoners there actually are in Britain. And why are there no minimum security prisons?"

Ron said, "Father happened to mention that there are only a score or so prisoners left now, and the Dementors are getting restless. He says they can become aggressive if there are too few prisoners."

Hermione was shocked, "So they're like sacrifices, put there to keep the Dementors from becoming restless."

Ron said reasonably, "No-one can kill the Dementors. This solution is better than having them making random attacks."

Harry asked, "Is that the only reason for the inhumanity?"

Ron shrugged, "I guess. Father didn't tell me until recently, and then Mother said he was to remember I was just a child, and should not be told such horrible things." Ron was the tallest boy of the seventh years, closely followed by Neville.

Harry said affectionately, "Molly has to be the best mum in the world."

"Yeah, I guess. But I wish Bill and Charlie would hurry and have some children, and then she might realise the rest of us are grown up."

The talk switched back to the problem of abruptly freed prisoners, unable to look after themselves. Neville had an intuitive understanding of trauma. He was going to be an excellent Healer one day. Hermione was good at the practicalities, while Ron wanted to talk about destroying Dementors, Deruchnia as Justine called them. Deruchnia was the Aniragi word for the creatures.

Justine yawned, and Harry asked, "Do you want to see the latest photographs of our godson?"

Hermione said dryly, "Albus Trevor Harry Lyons. You've shown us several times."

Harry grinned, and Hermione glanced at Justine, and said, "It's late. We'd best go."

Two days later, there was a lengthy article about the League of Mothers' advertisement. It stated that there had been similar articles in several other countries' newspapers the same day. There was no information about who the League of Mothers were, and there was a statement from the Ministry justifying their procedures, and with the bald statement that there was an underlying strain of magic that ran in the veins of Muggles as well as wizards. That it sometimes surfaced. That the Muggle-born were _not _a result of rape. The Big Lie, it was called, the brazen falsehood in spite of evidence to the contrary. It often worked, but not always. In the Hufflepuff boys' dormitory, a fourth year boy asked, "What do you think, Tony?"

Tony was the son of Vance McKenzie, Chief Auror, the grandson of the notorious Calvin McKenzie. Tony hesitated, looking at his best friend. But what the article had pointed out was true. There were far too many, and the chances of brother marrying sister were too high. He started fussing over the folding of some clothes in his cupboard, but he answered, "Father said it was common, and very hard for them to do anything about. If the woman is obliviated, she may not even know that anything has happened, you see."

Another boy said carelessly, "As long as one does the anti-conception spell, there's no harm done. Doesn't hurt the woman, and it's a lot easier than to persuade one of our own girls." A prefect had to be called to try and reverse the painful Hex put on him by the Winden boy, who was a talented wizard, Muggle-born or not.

There were other fights and a lot of distress. Boys quickly learned to be very careful indeed about what they said to girls, who'd been utterly appalled by the allegations, and were looking at the wizards, young and old, with different eyes. By the end of the week, three quarters of the girls had learned the Impotence Curse, though only one used it. Her boyfriend unwisely told her that the practice was beneficial because it introduced new blood to the gene-pool. He hadn't gone so far as to admit that he'd left a few cuckoos himself, but the girl hexed him anyway. It was easy to lift, luckily for the ex-boyfriend who would think twice the next time he fancied a Muggle girl.

It was a month before there was further word from the League of Mothers. Another paid advertisement, with a bold announcement at the top that it was in no way endorsed by the Daily Prophet or any of its staff. This one implied that there would be repercussions if immediate steps were not taken to make the prison system more humane. It also suggested that an appropriate punishment for rape was castration. No more rape, no more children. There were loud objections to that suggestion, confirming for those still sceptical that rape of Muggle women was indeed common and condoned as normal.

Gerhard Dahl was in his fifties, much older than his Hecatema, Berthe, implying that he may have been Second Order Chosen when he'd won. Harry had a very great respect for Gerhard, who was a formidable man, courageous and clever. He'd resigned as Germany's Chief Auror only five years before after he'd been hurt in a battle. Not that he was afraid of hurt, but Berthe had also been in pain, because he was. Gerhard was head of the Action Committee.

He handed out the plan of action, and said, "Fiona and Justine, you're with Group B, looking after prisoners, but stay in the background and don't speak. Only take action if the men find themselves in trouble. If there are any human staff there, that's the responsibility of Group B as well, but that's unlikely, as no wizard stays a moment longer than required, usually gone by four, straight after the afternoon meal. An hour's time difference, we arrive at six, and straight into action."

They'd already gone over the plan of action several times, and there was no-one in doubt about their role. The only ones not going to the German prison were the two oldest pairs, and they'd be at the reception centre.

Fiona asked, "What if Aurors arrive with an unexpected prisoner?"

"Group C will look after it. They don't get involved in killing Dementors. They stay on guard, and prevent any interference." He raised his voice again, "No-one must be hurt. Only destroy Dementors. No human must see our faces. We are to remain anonymous, and we want witnesses to assume we're all men. So women keep voices down, and conceal your shape. If you need to say anything in front of witnesses, tell your Bond-mate, who will talk for you. And remember, if anyone asks, we deny all involvement."

He glanced at Harry, "No lessons are to be missed, and those with jobs are not to miss a day, and give no indication they've done anything unusual over the weekend." There was a murmur of agreement. Many of the Bond-mates looked eager, though the Hecatemae didn't. They'd accepted the need for action as a regretful necessity, but they didn't have to like it.

Friday evening, Ron remarked, "Harry and Justine must have decided to dine alone tonight."

Hermione laughed, "Or become caught up in lovemaking again. She's a good match for him."

"Hecatema, of course."

"Neville suggested that probably any close Bond where one can feel the other, might make for explosive sex. He says he's going to try for the Vere Ultima when he marries."

"You might be right."

"Yourself?"

"I don't know if I'll marry. How do I know I'm not marrying a brother?" Wizards had no objective way of determining blood relationships, and there had been a new law just proclaimed, that it was illegal to go to a Muggle doctor for a DNA test. The DNA of wizards was different to that of Muggle.

Ron asked, "You don't want me any more, do you?"

"We both know that we're not really suited. It's been dying a long time."

Ron kissed her, "It was good while it lasted though."

Hermione said sadly, "It was good." She didn't know if anyone would want her now. There was good reason for not wanting a Muggle-born.

Harry remarked to Berthe, "It went very well." They were in Group A, the group that destroyed Dementors. There had been no wizard staff at the bleak, German prison, and the pitiful inmates were all now at the Reception Centre, where they were being assessed by three senior Hecatemae. The 'League of Mothers,' men and women, all wore featureless white masks, and were all in full-length, plain white robes. No-one wanted to be mistaken for Dementors.

Several of the Hecatemae swung to the South, almost in unison, and called, "More Dementors!" Three score, approximately, but they were no match for the Hecatemae. Gerhard told them 'Well done,' and said that Trieneke had given the opinion that it was because Dementors had a group intelligence, and that possibly more would come.

Harry said, "There are estimated to be about seven thousand. What if we could render the vermin extinct?" Gerhard looked at him thoughtfully, until there was another warning sounded. More were coming.

After the third wave of attacks by Dementors from afar, Gerhard sent Harry to join Group C. He may have been able to destroy the foul things, the only wizard who could, but he was becoming increasingly tired. He didn't have the power of a Hecatema.

All the long night, the attacks came, mindlessly. Thousands of Dementors fell to the ground in boneless black heaps. After a few hours and a foul smell, they melted into the air, clothing and all, and vanished.

Toward dawn, after two hours without an attack, six of the Elders linked hands and concentrated. The powers of Hecatemae were awesome. When they stated that there didn't appear to be any more Dementors, anywhere, the Bond-mates turned their attention to reducing the tower of stone to dust. Whatever crimes they had committed, humans should be treated with decency.

Monday morning, Harry and Justine were at breakfast at Hogwarts as if nothing had happened. They were thought to have spent the weekend at their home, as they often did. The senior students had far more freedom under Professor McGonnagal. Mail arrived, including the newspapers, and there were loud exclamations from around the room. Justine asked, "What is it?"

Hermione opened her paper, and read, "Prison guards abandon their duty. On Saturday morning, staff arrived at Azkaban to discover the Dementors had abandoned their posts, and left prisoners unguarded. No escapes are reported."

Lavender asked, "Do you think the 'League of Mothers' could have had something to do with it?"

Her current boyfriend, Justin, said scathingly, "They're just a bunch of crackpots. The Minister said."

Hermione said seriously, "I suggest you never tell your parents that your mother may have been molested."

Justin thumped his plate angrily back on the table, and said, "I'm not stupid!"

Lavender said quietly, "I wrote privately to my father. He swears he never sired children on any Muggle, and neither did his brother or his father, or their brothers. He says I can marry whom I please without worrying about a possible relationship."

Justin asked, "He didn't say it didn't happen, then?"

"He didn't say it happened and he didn't say it didn't. Only that I have no relatives I don't know about."

Justine turned the subject, "Harry, has Professor Sprout said anything about how we're to be assessed for gardening?"

"As a group, I believe. In practise, I expect we all get automatic NEWTs."

Justine smiled, "I can't wait for Spring."

Ron asked, "Why don't you make things grow quicker? Mum always does."

"The Professor says we'll do things the natural way to begin with, and work on that in the last few months."

Tomas was sitting next to Severus Snape, and murmured, "Justine's beginning to show."

"So's Camille. She was moaning that she was feeling awkward, but it was only an excuse to be told how beautiful she is."

"She was devastated when her first husband died. It's good to see her happy again."

Snape asked casually, "Did you and Madeline have a good weekend?"

"Helping Justine with her garden. She's very keen."

Snape glanced over at Harry again. He looked so full of vigour. Good to see him like that, and yet he'd lost some of that ethereal beauty he'd had when he was dying. Or was that only in his own perception? It was hard to imagine now, that he'd ever looked at him like that. Was he the reason that the Hecatema Association had suddenly become active? Or maybe Linley Carlyle. He knew the Carlyles well. One had been a Death Eater when he was young. His desertion had never been punished, probably because it was shortly before that failed Death Curse sixteen years ago.

It was better not to say anything of his suspicions. Better that wizards continued to think of Hecatemae only as desirable creatures whose purpose in life was to make the Soul Mate incredibly happy in bed.

It was another two days before the paper had the news that the German wizard prison had been demolished, with stories of mysterious men in white. No-one had witnessed the killing of Dementors, and the prisoners had been abandoned in a sheltered place, well stocked with food and warm clothing, before their Head Auror had been notified that there were ex-prisoners who required looking after. Two had been labelled as innocent, and there was a suggestion that most of them had suffered enough under the Dementors, that consideration should be given to granting them early release.

Graf asked, "What do you think, Dachier? Could the Bijn Yusdu have had anything to do with it?"

"I've heard nothing, Albrecht, and I don't know if the Yusdu are capable of killing Dementors."

"I did threaten that if any more girls were taken below the age of sixteen, a prison term would be considered."

"That won't happen again. Just that Gunther was besotted with the English boy, and it was thought better to have him safely Bonded."

"Whoever it was, they've done us a favour. Presumably allied with the so-called 'League of Mothers' whose recommendations might be best to accept in the main, with two exceptions - MacNair and Colleridge, whose crimes are beyond the pale."

The Dachier nodded, and then chuckled, "That everyone else lost their prison guards…. I suspect that wasn't planned."

"I do hope the Dementors are gone for good. They seem to be gone."

"We counted over three hundred bodies, but they were vanishing as we counted. Who knows how many there were?"

"Parasites. If we're truly rid of them, I'm very grateful to the Mothers and their sons or whoever they were!"

There was a similar discussion in London. Nineteen prisoners, still in the bare cold cells of Azkaban, but now guarded by wizards.

McKenzie concluded, "If the Dementors are truly gone, I would happily recommend that eleven of the prisoners be released, eight direct to their families, three for hospital treatment. A further seven require a secure ward for the insane, though a few might recover. There is left just one, whose name we've never known."

Fudge asked, "The one known as Red?"

"That's him. He's about sixty-five. He seems sane enough, surprisingly, but still never speaks."

"His crimes were proven, weren't they?"

"Circumstantial, but imperatives are changed. I could ask Vivienne Craig to look at him."

"Do that. As for the Dementors, I've been in touch with Ministers of Magic all over Europe, and they all say the prisons were abandoned, and Germany holds that there were definitely dead Dementors and their prison no longer exists. So what we'll do is have the Disciplinary Committee release the ones you recommend, but only on Probation, and with a Tracer Charm on them."

McKenzie smiled, "Very good. After all, with such a small population, there shouldn't be a great deal of need to imprison many. Quite a small, secure prison on the new Aniragia should be perfectly satisfactory."

The new Aniragia had been Voldemort's hideout, a property in Northumberland, not far from Harry's. Its powerful Muggle-repelling magic made it ideal for a wizard area.

***chapter end***


	22. Chapter 22

_Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_**Chapter 22, Final chapter:**_

A meeting of the Hecatema Association, this one held in France. There were five French Hecatemae, not including Justine. Hecatemae didn't seem to have a limitation of their apparation range, and Harry hadn't yet found his, but most of the other Bond-mates had been apparated as passengers by their wives. Trieneke was presiding, as always. "Well, we've done as our younger members wanted, and I agree that it does appear that it has been quite a good thing overall."

Her Soul Mate, Gehry, interrupted, "Treineke, we've exterminated the Dementors! It is not _quite a good thing; _it is a _wonderful _thing!"

Trieneke smiled slightly and continued, "What I was _about_ to say was that the matter of the Muggle-born is not so easily solved. Possibly the best that can be done is what we've already done, make it known to women, and hope their influence will reduce the practice."

It was a celebration, that meeting, rather than anything else. Harry and Linley didn't seem to have any more ideas to promote, to Trieneke's profound relief, though Harry did ask whether an experienced Hecatema might be capable of detecting whether two people were closely related. Trieneke had never tried, but said she'd talk to the oldest ones. Maybe they might be able to feel a relationship.

But then afterwards, Harry and Justine joined her parents and sisters for the evening. The little girls were very interested in Justine's pregnancy, and were asking increasingly embarrassing questions, until Antoinette said firmly that they were being rude, and asked if they wanted a story that evening or not. Chantelle's eyes turned to where Harry and Justine sat close, and asked for the Catma story.

Later, in bed, Harry asked Justine, _Is it the right thing, to keep them ignorant of what actually happens?_

Justine answered, _They may be ignorant of the details, yet, basically, we were taught truth - that the Hecatema Magic is very special and will work to give us the best and kindest and wisest man within fifty miles._ She could still feel his concern, and caressed his face, _And the best looking! _

Harry turned to her. What he'd known about Hecatema was true, too, that sex between a Hecatema and her mate was like nothing else on earth. He could not be happier.

Kingsley Shacklebolt also felt he could not be happier. He and Zondra's golden baby had been born at the end of February and was six weeks old. The baby's eyes were already tawny gold, and the soft fuzz on his head extended down his neck to between his shoulder blades. Yusdu. Nearly every first baby of Bijn Yusdu was one of the Golden Ones - something about the magic of a Bonding Conception. Gunther's Golden daughter was a couple of weeks older. Once old enough, the pair would probably play together, until it came time to take their own mates.

Albrecht Vardrier, aged eleven, asked Gunther, "Do you remember Harry Potter? I was thinking that if he has any daughters, I should check them over."

Gunther said carelessly, "He was small. I doubt if any of his children will attain the size we look for."

"The power, though. You said he had a power that no-one else has ever had."

Gunther shrugged, "It was a long time ago." He had Gisela now. He could not be happier.

For Harry and Justine, the months sped quickly. The births of the babies in May made it more difficult for Justine to attend lessons, but she was nevertheless able to qualify for NEWTs for those four subjects she'd done, History, Gardening, Household Management and Construction. Then back to Harry's property, to do some real work on turning it into a home.

Harry applied for his building traineeship, but was not accepted, though Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe were taken on. Harry was almost pleased to be rejected. He was perfectly capable of teaching himself, he felt, he had a large area of land to experiment on, and he was free to spend time with Justine and the babies. When he was ready, he could simply show examples of his work and take on commissions - go into business for himself. Building still seemed such a positive and constructive job to be doing - making comfortable homes for wizard families.

***x***

Another August. Harry was nineteen, Justine eighteen. The party had devolved into small groups, and Harry and Snape sat together, a little apart from the others. Harry remarked, "Three years today, Voldemort died."

Snape nodded, "And you nearly died."

Harry chuckled, "Some people still treat me as if I've somehow let everyone down."

"Like when you couldn't get your chosen traineeship."

"He said something snide about how it must be so terrible not to be famous any more."

There was a sudden squeal from the toddlers playing on the floor as a black-haired boy hit a sandy-haired one over the head with a toy car. Three black-haired boys, sons of Snape and Camille, of Fiona and Linley, and of Trevor and Malene. Two chubby, sandy-haired boys, identical twins, the sons of Harry and Justine.

Snape asked, "Have you decided whether to have any more children?"

"Linley tells me there's a Prophecy, Ministry Accredited and all, quite lengthy, indicating that Muggles are going to die out in a series of massive pandemics. It says that wizards will be scarcely affected, except, I presume, by losing all the infrastructure so kindly provided for us. If we choose to take notice of that prophecy, we could have a dozen children and not worry about Muggles seeing Hecatema chases."

"Who made the Prophecy?"

"Granny Abbot."

"I thought you didn't believe in Prophecy."

Harry admitted, "Maybe there's something in them, sometimes."

Snape quoted, "_Before the world wheels once, the Marked Child of Light will join the one he cries for_."

"And I would have done, only that you refused to allow me."

Snape laughed, "At one stage, I was planning on handing you over to Zondra Vardrier."

Harry looked at him incredulously, and said finally, "I think I would rather have had you!"

Snape looked at Camille, and said, "She tells me this one's to be a girl."

"Good. I'll pair her up to one of my boys."

***x***

_**The end.**_


End file.
